


drink the poison lightly

by myillusionsgone



Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ivan is a good guy in this, actually the romance is slowly starting, as in: really slow, at some point, drama so much drama, slow development, the dragons are people with dragon tattoos, there might actually be romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-15
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-17 13:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 184,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2311442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myillusionsgone/pseuds/myillusionsgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are the ones who are not quite happy,<br/>the ones who carry their burdens and who<br/>try to smile and to get it right because they<br/>have to. No one ever said it would be easy.<br/>(But no one ever said it might be this hard.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i.

**i ain’t your pal, _mate_.**

* * *

Looking back, Silver Fullbuster did not know what had ever convinced him that becoming an agent in the Era Criminal Investigation Department – ECID – for short but after he had been partnered with Gildarts Clive, he came to realise that there were many people in the building who had the skill set to work for every bigger investigation department in the country but stayed in the capital for some reason, trying to find the culprits behind muggings and theft and the occasional murder.

If they were still in high school, Silver would probably have hated the always cheerful red-haired man who was always kidding around, telling stupid jokes until it was time to get serious. Silver would have hated Gildarts Clive because they would have been rivals, probably the both best athletes. Thankfully, this was not high school and their specialities differed in their profession. While Silver was not horrible when it came to hand-to-hand combat, he would never allow himself to enter a combat situation without an actual weapon and he was nearly convinced that his partner was crazy because Clive did not bother with those things. Silver had lost count on how many times he had had to remind the other man that he was obligated to carry his gun when they were out on the field and he could quote the oaf’s code – _“I take a gun when I need one but not just because the rules say so”_ – with all the little variants there were.

And for a man as straight-forward as the martial art expert, he surely had a surprising amount of exceptions from all the rules he had tried to get Silver to understand and, even worse, to follow.

Some of the rules were logical, like that their office had to remain in a decent state, that no food was stolen. Others were downright ridiculous and made absolutely no sense whatsoever – like the silly rule that Silver was under no circumstances permitted to ever sign a report in red ink. At first, the newcomer had considered that it might be because of the hierarchy within the ECID, that red might be meant solely for the boss – an old lady by the name of Ooba Babasama – but the boss signed her official documents in a deep shade of green so it could not be that although it actually would have made sense – for a change.

But no, Gildarts Clive’s motivations remained a mystery to his partner, even after months of having worked together but this was okay for Silver. He had not joined ECID to make a bunch of great new friends, he was there to earn some money – and under this point of view, it would be rather positive if they would manage to get a case solved. As Clive was a seasoned agent – rumour had it that he had worked for a federal organisation beforehand – Silver got to skip the boring parts and after weeks on the job, he was sitting on his desk, staring at the reports in front of him and trying to figure out why a man had had to die in a rather brutal manner.

This was when his partner returned from his trip to the coffee shop – and the pretty brunette working there – carrying a tray that contained three cups of coffee. “Fullbuster,” he said as he leaned against his desk before he grabbed a stack of files, “we are going downstairs … you haven’t been there yet, have you?”

“…are we going to meet up with Dreyar again?” Silver asked as he got up, a frown on his face. He had to admit that the man was probably one hell of a medical examiner but this did not change the fact that Silver found his presence to be deeply unsettling. The man made his skin crawl and he was convinced that Dreyar was aware of this and did it on purpose. Looking at this again a few months later, he realised that no, Dreyar was not doing it on purpose and that the man just struggled to talk to people less intelligent than him.

“I wouldn’t buy coffee for him,” Clive replied as he approached the elevator, pushing the button with a broad grin on his face. “Nope, we’re buying someone’s good graces today.”

“And who’s going to be that person?” Silver asked as he followed his partner as they headed downstairs. “And why _three_ cups of coffee?”

“I need someone to translate Dreyar’s report for me and believe it or not, the man isn’t the only smart one we got,” he replied as he looked at the coffee in his hands. “And bribery via coffee is highly effective … our friend has been on duty for the last twenty-four hours, it will be highly appreciated.”

They did not get off the elevator in the cellar but one floor above where the people worked who rarely _if ever_ left their desks anymore. Silver wanted to comment on this, wanted to ask who they were going to see before Clive knocked sharply on a door and entered without waiting for a reply. Inside, it was confusingly dark and it took a second for the newcomer to the department to get used to it and then, he spotted a silhouette on the desk which confused him even further.

“Good morning, Lund,” the man greeted before he switched on the lights and grinned widely at the woman who blinked, bedazzled by the sudden light and looking reasonably guilty as she had been caught sitting _on_ her desk. “Had a rough night?”

“The opposite,” she replied as she held out her hand and was rewarded with the first of the coffees. “What do you need from me?”

Agent – and there was no doubt that she either was an agent or had been one – Lund was on the pretty side. She reminded him a little of a china doll with her pale skin and her dark hair but he doubted that she would have made it in ECID if she was as fragile as a doll. She did not look particularly dangerous but the way Clive acted around her implied great respect and Silver had learned to follow his partner’s judgement until he had made his own.

“Dreyar is going to give me a report in a few minutes and I was wondering how the chances are that you translate it for me,” Clive said with a nonchalant shrug.

She took a generous sip from the coffee, smiling slightly in progress. “You still remember how I drink it,” she then said before she stretched and smoothed out the wrinkles of her jacket which was red, just like all her personal belongings and her folders.

“I sure do,” he replied as he swatted away her hand as she reached for the next cup in silence. “Oi, Lund, _behave_.”

The sheer amount of red in the single office was confusing for Silver because usually, all offices looked the same – a messy assortment of folders in various colours, colours that had once been supposed to help the agents keep their things in order but this had not worked out, they were all far too busy to uphold a complicate system consisting out of colour-coded folders. It was one of the many examples for something that had been a good idea but had been put into reality with a lack of consideration.

Nonetheless, it struck him as odd that someone had gone and collected folders strictly in one colour. There was not a single dot of blue, not a single streak of green amidst the sea of red. Red was truly everywhere. The woman’s jacket, the ink her pens had left on the white paper, the office equipment on her desk.

He had heard faint rumours about agents who had been brilliant before a case had cracked their brains and sent them over the edge, forever destroying the potential they might have had at some point of time. Maybe she was one of them, someone who had been trapped in her own mind, locking her in while the real world continued as usual.

Or maybe not, maybe she was not one of the agents who were lost in a way no one ever really spoke about because it was painful for partners to see someone brilliant waste away. Then, Silver got a glimpse on the white board behind her, a white board that was covered in messy scribbling and doodles that did not seem to belong to one case – but to eleven different ones – and for a moment, he lost hope because it seemed like she was lost. If this was the woman Gildarts trusted to help them, they were likely lost.

 _Or maybe not._ When he looked again, he recognised a pattern and that the mess was indeed organised and that the woman had been working on a theory that seemed to consider whether or not the cases might be connected somehow which was impressive, in a way. It was also a little terrifying but after he had met Ivan Dreyar, overly intelligent people no longer unsettled Silver. This woman could at least uphold a normal conversation without getting off-topic and rambling about foreign things.

“So … you want me in Ivan’s lab. So I can tell you what he really means,” she said as she crumbled the empty paper cup in her left hand.

“And because I appreciate your input,” he added as he leaned into her personal space, something that seemed to bother her as she pushed him away. “And because—“

“—Babasama put me back onto field duty,” she interrupted, waving around an official looking letter. “So since I got no actual cases at the moment, I’ll end up looking over your shoulder in your current one.”

“The outside world will most certainly _appreciate_ your return, milady,” Clive playfully said as he winked at her, chuckling as she rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, c’mon, you can’t tell me that you aren’t excited.”

“Out of breath, really,” she said drily as she unlocked the top drawer of her desk, clipping her badge to her belt. “I’ll have my stuff moved back into the office. Hope you didn’t get too used to my desk.”

“…I really start to think that it was a horrible idea to get you back on board already,” he muttered as he handed her the next cup of coffee. “Oh, and you should meet my new partner. After you abandoned me so _cowardly_ —“

“I don’t advise you to finish this sentence,” she snapped as she crossed her arms over her chest, a fierce expression in her black eyes. She was really the prettiest agent Silver had seen so far at the headquarters and he was rather sure that he was not the only one who thought so because as the door was slightly opened, he could see other agents stop and stare for a moment as she collected her equipment from her office.

“Sorry, Lund,” Clive sighed as he mentioned towards Silver. “That’s Agent Fullbuster. Fullbuster, that’s Ur Lund, my ex-partner.”

“You make it sound like I’m an ex-wife,” she threw in as she closed the buckles of her holster around her leg. “Nice to meet you, Agent.”

“Likewise, Lund, likewise,” he replied with a sly smirk as he winked at her. “If I had known that there were women as pretty as you, I’d have come here far earlier.”

“ _Urgh_ ,” she said as she rolled her eyes again, looking at Gildarts. “I need the key to the armoury. And keys to my car.”

“I’ll get that done,” Clive replied as he reached out to ruffle her hair which ended with her swatting away his hand like an irritating fly. “Oh, c’mon. It’ll be grand to work with you again. It has been way too long.”

“Grow up,” she snapped as she threw files into her bag. “Gildarts, get me back my gun.”

“You sure about that?” he asked as he bit his lip. “I mean, no offense, but—“

“I’ll go back to the field, Clive, this means I need a weapon. Of course, rather than a gun, you can also get me a _broadsword_ but that might look a bit weird,” she said with yet another roll of her eyes. “Now, _shush_.”

“You’ll be at Dreyar’s in four minutes?” Clive asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yes,” she nodded as she mirrored his body language in a way that seemed terrifyingly casual and easy. “You get my gun back for me, I’ll get the ammunition and Fullbuster gets my keys. He knows where to get them, yeah?”

“I certainly hope so,” Clive said and then, she was gone and Silver had no idea what had just happened. He just knew that they had gotten some kind of _sleeper_ agent back on board after she had taken a break which struck him as odd because if she had had her own car, she must have had a high rank. But he would not ask any questions because in the end, it was not his problem why she had taken a break.

Still, he looked at his partner and frowned deeply. “Hey, Clive,” he started, “what was that about? I saw her first so hands off.”

“Dude, no, you didn’t,” the red-haired man said as he reached for a stack of paper and handed a few to Silver. “I worked with her before you even thought about joining our department.”

“So that’s why you let her order us around like we’re her errand boys?” Silver asked as they left the office again. “Because of an old debt?”

“She outranks both of us,” the other man replied as he headed down the hallway back to the elevator. “And believe me, it’s better when we get her car.”

“But we won’t be able to get both the car and the gun within four minutes,” Silver pointed out before he realised that Clive was very much aware of this and that this was likely some kind of plan of his. _“Wait—”_

“Letting good ol’ Ur deal with Dreyar means she won’t have a choice but to help us with the investigation and believe me, we got a better chance with an expert on the case,” he said as he pushed the button for the cellar where the armoury was located. “Requiring third party assessments is something we don’t have time for right now … and she’s an expert for a lot of things. Wouldn’t surprise me if she had some knowledge about human sacrifices, too.”

“So you’re still sticking to that theory?” Silver asked as they got off the elevator again. “You know that the boss said that it sounds odd.”

“She called it _improbable_ but you know, I’ve done that job a long time and by now, I’m not even surprised anymore,” Clive replied as he shrugged.

“Alright,” Silver said as he separated from his partner and strolled down the endless hallways until he got to the garage where he approached the agent who was in charge of the car pool. Although – calling it a mere car pool was a huge understatement because aside from the cars, there were motorbikes and boats, and he knew that technically, the ECID owned a few helicopters and a plane as well.

“Agent Fullbuster,” the colleague said as he waved the man closer to the counter. “What can I do for you? Do you and Clive need a special car for your job?”

“Nah, an Agent Lund sends me, I am supposed to get the keys to her car,” he replied, once more painfully reminded that Clive and he were so far down in the pecking order that they did not have a car of their own yet. It seemed to him, however, that the reason why they had no car was that when Clive had still worked with Lund, she had gotten the rights to have her own car and that later on, Clive had been probably too lazy to request a car of his own.

“Lund asked for her car back?” the agent asked as he started to rummage around in the files he had on his desk. “That’s a real surprise to me.”

Silver had sworn himself that he would never ask, that he would try to stay out of the office gossip as far as he could because it was the sort of thing that could easily end up messily for him and he had seen enough messes to last him a lifetime. But this was about a member of what was going to be a team and he felt like he was supposed to know a little more about the new addition to the group. “Why?” he asked.

“Because after she filed the request for transfer, she came here, handed over her keys although she had never been asked to do that and told me to make sure no one else ever got his hands on her car,” the man shrugged as he took a look at the papers Silver was holding out to him. “Oh well, looks like she changed her mind about that part of the deal.”

“…what was her field of expertise?” Silver then asked as he caught the set of keys the man threw him.

“For details, you got to ask either Lund or Clive but I remember her as expert for weaponry … and explosives,” the man said with a slight nod. “She did mostly consulting lately but it’s time for her to get back on the stage.”

“So how does it make sense for Clive to want her on the sacrifice case?” he groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He did not want Clive’s old partner on a case when it was out of her field of expertise and his partner was completely smitten with her for some reason.

“Because there is no one else in the department who is as smart as her,” the man said as he shrugged slightly. “Not counting Dreyar, of course. And because Clive and Lund worked together even before they have come here.”

This was the first time Silver heard an actually useful reference about Clive not having been in the ECID for his entire career and he made a mental note to ask – if the occasion was ever right – to ask about that because it seemed rather interesting to him for some reason. Nonetheless, pocketing the keys, he returned to building and barely made it to the morgue when a guilty-looking Gildarts Clive was dragged out of the room by a furious Agent Lund who did not look happy and seemed to be seconds from ripping off his ear which might actually looked rather amusing to Silver. Not that he wished anything bad for his partner.

“…c’mon, Ur, it was supposed to be funny,” Clive grinned as she finally let go of his rather red ear. “So, what do you think?”

“Human sacrifice sounds actually like a sound guess,” she said as she crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “I asked Ivan and he agreed with me there. So if you would have really believed in your own theory, Gildarts, you would have done some research on cultures who performed this sort of ritual.”

“You sound like there’s something else you want to say,” Gildarts said as he reached her the gun without feeling offended by her implication that he had no idea how to handle his job. Perhaps because he realised that she was right about it, that they should have done some research on the topic they were basing their theory on.

“We’ll discuss it in the car,” she said as she held out her hand. “Because lucky for us, Ivan just got a call that they found a body that matches the pattern on your killer.”

“You’re driving?” Gildarts asked as he mentioned Silver. “He’s a pretty good driver, too.”

“And it’s my car and it’s my head that will be off if something happens,” she replied as she grabbed the keys and marched down the hallway. “You _knew_ the price of getting me back aboard, Clive, so don’t act all offended. Plus, how many years did it take for you to be allowed to even touch it?”

“Three,” he replied as he threw an apologetic glance into Silver’s general direction. “Lund’s a bit of a control freak, don’t take it personal.”

“How could I ever get mad a woman that pretty?” Silver smirked because for some reason, it seemed to be a good idea to him to get onto her nerves. They had to become a team and maybe it was a good way to bond by annoying her.

“Remind me to mix salt into his coffee one day,” she replied as they stepped onto the parking lot. “Ivan meets us on the scene. Okay, let’s get going.”

* * *

  **what we really mean when we say _guilt_**

* * *

Agent Ur Lund was not the expert of weaponry and explosives. This was the most common misconception on what she was doing for ECID. She was an investigator who – in actuality – excelled in profiling, in finding what could not be seen, in hearing what the dead did not tell the medical examiners. She had spend unusually much time on the field because she had been partnered with Gildarts who was a field agent by nature and so she had rounded up her expertise with knowledge about undercover work and other things. Like marksmanship.

If she would ever be asked what she personally liked most about her job, however, she would say that she enjoyed the sheer amount of vehicles she was allowed to drive and to fly. This was why her fingertips were tickling with anticipation when she unlocked the car she had not driven since she had been transferred to desk duty.

“Nice car,” the newbie commented and she rolled her eyes as she slid onto the driver’s seat, throwing her bag over the shoulder and onto the backseat, nearly throwing it into his face. This had not been intended but she was very good at never feeling too guilty, at keeping it buried deep in her mind.

“Sorry about that,” she muttered as she started the engine, buckling up in progress. “Okay, it’s time to get going.”

“Coffee, Lund?” Gildarts asked, holding out the third of the coffees he had brought to her office in the morning and she had to laugh as she took it, finally getting the car out of the parking lot and onto the streets.

It was not like Gildarts was difficult to read. She had known that he was out to bribe her the moment he had held out the first coffee and she had played along because he had been her partner for far too many years for her to do anything but. She knew him well and in actuality, she had not even been surprised when he had stood her up at Ivan’s lab. He had done this quite a few times in the past (when she had been his partner rather than that newbie) and she had gotten used to his distinct lack of responsibility when it came to chatting with the medical examiner.

She had not minded this because she had gotten along with Ivan – he had brought her in when she had been through with her old job – and it had been nice to know that there was something she could do that no one else could do as well. She could follow the man’s explanations and she enjoyed their mental tennis when they threw ideas back and forth until they had a solution for a problem.

This was certainly why Gildarts had wanted her back on board. He had long replaced her on the field – Agent Fullbuster was a field agent, someone who had excellent recommendations. She knew this. She had always been one to do her homework and just because she had no longer been Gildarts’ partner had not meant that she had forgotten about him or that she had left him out of her sight.

People who knew her would be unsurprised to hear that she had had the newbie’s file on her desk twelve minutes after Gildarts’ choice had become public knowledge – and this had actually stung, that the man had not had the nerve to come to her office and tell her who would be her replacement. Not that anyone could actually replace her – she had seven years on Fullbuster and the moment the man would make a wrong move, she would remind him of this.

He could be the partner all he wanted but she was the friend and sometimes, Gildarts needed a friend and not a partner.

She stopped her track of thoughts, surprised by her own bitterness because it was uncalled for. She had been the one to make the call, the one to go behind Gildarts’ back by leaving without prior discuss and she should be thankful that he had called her back to his team in spite of knowing that her conflict management was horrible and she was unreliable as a consequence.

Considering this, she was probably supposed to doubt Gildarts’ intelligence because he knew this as well as she did. Then, he had always liked to imagine that she had noble reasons, even for her most selfish decisions and even among them, leaving the field had been outstanding. No other decision of hers had ever been quite that inconsiderate towards other, it was the only time when she remembered that she had merely focused on her own benefit.

But then, she knew herself better than this, better than to go for the most obvious explanation for her behaviour. She knew the truth she had been trying to hide, to cover up for so long. She had been scared out of her mind and she had never been good when she had been too scared to breathe properly. Gildarts had once jokingly said that he was too stupid to be afraid and she had disagreed, had reminded him that he was capable of fear but had too much faith to consider failure an actual opinion, that he was too focused on the bright side of things to take the dark one into consideration.

She was cursed with the ability to think about both at the same time and as she was a bit of a pessimist, she ended up seeing the full picture and in this picture, the negative aspects were coloured in strong, angry colours, making it hard to see the positive things as well.

“Thanks for the coffee,” she said quietly as she took a sip, switching on the blue light with her coffee-wielding hand as she hit the speed limit and sped up further. “Newbie – still alive?” she asked as she looked into the mirror, a smug smirk in place. “And ask me, Gildarts. I know you want to.”

“No worries, Lund, my breakfast wants to say hello again but I’ll live,” the new one replied and she focused onto the street again. It was always hilarious to see the reactions to her driving style – and some had quite the interesting comments on it which usually meant that they were still feeling a little too well.

“Good,” she said as she took a sharp corner, sighing as she heard how Gildarts’ head hit the window. “Oh c’mon, Clive, you should be used to it.”

“To your way of killing me by just driving?” he asked as he held onto the handle. “Anyway, how did you convince him to come out to play? He usually sends one of his assistants.”

“I promised him some good food and maybe a cup of coffee the next time I work nightshift,” she replied with a shrug as she took another sip from her own coffee, the thought that coffee might not be the best for Ivan briefly crossing her mind before she suppressed a sigh; she was losing her touch and all those little lapses of judgement showed this. “Talking of coffee – how’s your girl?”

“She isn’t my girl,” he replied with a huff and she chuckled as she slowed down the car as she caught sight of their colleagues in the distance.

“Uh-uh,” she said as she raised an eyebrow. “She’s nice … makes great espresso. I am totally in favour of you dating her, Gildarts.”

And this in itself was rare enough. She was protective over her old friend because no matter how tough he was, he had a soft heart and this was why she was usually the one who handled the emotionally complicated events.

“Always so kind, Lund,” he replied as he rolled his eyes at her. “So … what part are you going to play in this new game, milady?”

“I could have the conversation with the victim’s family,” she offered with a grimace – she had always hated that aspect of her work – as she parked her car and got out, grabbing her bag as she slipped into the gloves. “Now, what do we have here?”

“A crime scene, _Sherlock_ ,” Fullbuster said and she was taken aback for a moment before she had to smirk. It had been a while since someone – and especially someone new – had had the nerve to make a witty comment to a rhetorical question of hers and she had to admit that it was rather amusing. Which did not mean that she was okay with his comments in general. She was actually a little frustrated by them and she would do her best to either get him to stop or to get rid of him.

“Wouldn’t have guessed,” she replied as she crossed her arms. “Gildarts, your turn.”

“Alright,” he said as he approached the other agents while she leaned against her car and watched the exchange between the men with a frown on her face before her eyes briefly roamed over the scene, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You don’t like it when you have to talk to other people?” Fullbuster asked as he towered next to her. “That’s why you sent Clive over there?”

“No,” she replied as she shook her head. “I actually like talking to others … I am just waiting for the things I need to get from Ivan. And he isn’t going to this scene until it’s cleared.”

“Gotta be hard working with a genius that’s a little out of it,” he muttered and she had to admit that this was true.

It would be easier for her to work with Ivan if he was not as smart but there was nothing she could do to dumb the medical examiner down. And even if she could, she would not do it because she needed someone as smart as herself (and technically speaking, he was even smarter) around sometimes. Only that she came with better social skills than him. Nonetheless, as the second certified genius, she was stuck with being the bridge between Ivan and the rest of the world.

“Yeah,” she said as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “But we worked together for a long time. He brought Gil and me in.”

“So where did you work before?” he asked as she stepped around the car, opening the trunk and dragging out her bags. “C’mon, tell me.”

“National Anti-Hazard Agency,” she said without batting an eye.

It had been a long time ago and she had left on her own accord and she had come to ECID with an unique skill set which had filled exactly the requirements the agency had had at the time, giving her exactly the sort of job she had wanted to have all her life. And the working hours were far better.

“You got into the NAHA,” he said as he crossed his arms and looked down at her. “And then you went to _ECID_ **and** you got a _desk job_.”

“Yep,” she said as she waved at the medical examiner who was still sitting in his car. “It looks like a downfall but … you know, stress got me in the end.”

That was a lie but it was a lie that had been spread already and she was sure as hell not going to tear apart the carefully crafted lie – thought-up by no one less than Ivan – just because her old partner had found a new partner who followed him around and actually did what he was saying. That had to be a completely new situation for Gildarts because usually, Ur had been the one to make the calls.

“Stress? You were at NAHA and you say stress got you?” he asked and she gritted her teeth because he was right, it made no sense. When she had still been at the NAHA, she had worked forty-eight-hour-shifts and she had never had a single sick day. For her to need a transfer to a calmer position in an agency like the ECID had to sound like a very bad lie.

But nonetheless, she smirked as she approached the crime scene. “I didn’t say it was because I had too much stress,” she said lightly as she dodged the barrier tape while he was trailing behind her. “Anyway, let’s get a good look at our victim and this areal so we can get back. It’ll rain soon.”

“Don’t tell me that you’re scared of a little rain,” he said and she rolled her eyes at him.

“The rain will ruin the evidence so while I’ll talk with Ivan, you might want to help Gildarts,” she said as she turned around and looked at the pale medical examiner. “Hi, Ivan,” she said friendly, keeping her voice even and calming for his sake. “Any ideas so far?”

“I haven’t even seen the patient yet, Agent Lund, so let me do my job,” he said with a huff as he cracked his bones, “but from what I heard, it sounded like he was killed the same way the fellows in my morgue were killed.”

“If it’s like this, we won’t find much around here, yes?” she asked carefully as she bit her lip. There was a reason why she was the one who talked to him. Ivan was easily upset and nothing got him as angry as people who told him how he had to do his job.

“No,” he said as he approached the body. “I would say that the victim was not killed here.”

“Hm,” she muttered as she frowned as she followed him. “You think we got one cause of death and two post mortem injuries again?”

“Which would have lead to the death just as well?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow. “Yes, this sounds likely. The body was found faster than the last time … so maybe we can make a better investigation this time. Now go and keep the newbie away from me.”

She did not move for a while, her feet deeply rooted into the ground as she looked at him.

“ _Please_ ,” he said with a sigh and she smiled as she walked away, joining Silver by the sidelines where the man was staring at something.

“Yo,” she greeted as she leaned over the streamer to get a better look at it as well. “Found something?”

“Not sure,” he said as he tried to reach out. “I would have to get a better look at it … but without a ladder, it’s pointless.”

“You and Gil are both so focused on holding your height advantage over my head that you _totally_ forget that I have a weight advantage,” she sighed as she unbuttoned her jacket. “It has been a while since I climbed onto a tree but I still got it.”

“Or I could lift you,” he offered and for a moment, she had to wonder whether he was really being serious about this.

“I think I’m a little too heavy for that,” she said as she rested her hand on the tree’s bark. “Nothing against you, _newbie_ , it’s just how it is.”

“How long until you’ll drop the ‘newbie’ in favour for my name?” he asked as he followed her, still offering her a hand. “And I’m no weakling, I bet I can lift you up without a problem. I mean – you’re _tiny_.”

“Most of my weight is _muscle_ ,” she replied as she bit her lip before she threw up her hands, an universal gesture of surrender although she sure as hell did not yet surrender – and especially not to a complete newbie. “If you insist … but I warn you, one misplaced hand and I have you kicked off the team before the day is over.”

“I’m not that desperate, Lund,” he said as he rolled his eyes before he put his hands together. “And just for the record, I’m very popular with the ladies. There is no need for me to feel up a colleague.”

“That is a little too much information for my liking,” she replied as she cracked her bones, resting her foot in his hands. “Anyway, newbie, we are in a hurry.”

“I am aware, Lund,” he replied before he moved and then, she got her hands onto a branch high enough up for her to get her hands onto the item he had spotted after she had swung herself onto the branch.

“It’s some kind of necklace,” she said with a frown as she reached into her pocket to get a plastic bag for the evidence. “You got to sign this later on – you found it, after all.”

“You are really someone who likes fair play, huh?” he asked as he looked up to her. “How are you getting down? Shall I try to catch you?”

“I have flawless fitness results,” she replied as she got up, balancing on the thick branch for a moment before she jumped, performing a somersault midair and landing on both feet in a slightly crouched position before she straightened up again. “Here you go,” she said casually as she handed him the plastic bag. “It might be helpful for Ivan, in case it belonged to the victim,” she added as an afterthought.

* * *

**the coffee does not taste quite right to him**

* * *

Ur Lund had let Gildarts Clive have it all, nearly a year ago.

She had left the office with the pretty view over the park to him, had quietly cleared out her drawers, had stuffed her files into boxes and she had moved to another floor, one where she had been left alone – before he had even been cleared for duty again. She had left and he had known that she had done this because she had genuinely believed that this had been for the best, for his and for hers.

She had left quietly, she had not made a drama out of it. Hell, seven years as partners and she had sneaked away like a thief at night, had not even told him goodbye. And she had done this because she had known that one of them would have to make a hard decision and she had just been faster because she had always been faster and this was because she usually ran away. She was not good with conflicts, usually avoided them wherever it was somehow possible.

Looking back, her choice had been the right one.

He had been in a better place, he had been able to deal with the job after everything that had happened to them. She had left the stage gracefully, had given a last bow to the cheering audience before she had begun to push others into the limelight while she was in the second row, giving advise from behind a safe desk. She had surrendered her place as his partner, she had been the one to create the room for a new start with someone who was not as bruised and bent out of shape as she was.

But even today, Gildarts Clive had never liked nightshifts and back on his old desk (and with a nearly terrifying amount of red in the office), he hated them even more than usually. But he had known that the moment he brought his old partner back and formed a team, he would lose the desk with the nicest chair and would end up on his old chair again. He really should file a request for a nice chair, he mused as he lazily flicked through the reports, waiting for Ur to return from her trip to Ivan before he looked up and frowned at his new partner who was yawning.

“…did Lund tell you why she stopped working in the field?” he asked because if they were a team now, they had to be honest with each other and although he knew he was the only one to think this way, he would do his best to make this team work.

“She said it was the stress,” his partner replied as he looked up from his own reports. “Not sure what I’m supposed to think about that … if she was NAHA, stress is an old friend.”

“…this is true,” Gildarts said before he sighed deeply. “Off record, it was not stress. We were trained for stress. It was something else.”

Something he should have prevented but had failed to put a stop to because he had not believed what had been happening until it had been too late and all he had seen had been blood and all he had heard were Ur’s screams for paramedics and then, all he had felt had been terror and _dread_ because he had known that this was the end of what had been a nearly perfect partnership. (Even if she had quit him nearly fifty times in seven years.)

“Clive,” Fullbuster said in a rather serious way as he frowned deeply. “You don’t have to tell me. It’s Lund’s business and if she thinks I should know, she’ll tell me. Until then, I’ll have faith in my superiors and believe that she is fit for field duty.”

This was the first time Gildarts realised that perhaps, it was good to have a former soldier on the team. At first, he had requested a good marksman to be his new partner because between him and Ur, she had been the shooter and he had been the one to fight fist-to-fist and with her gone, he had needed a replacement, especially considering the fact that even if she would ever come back, she would unlikely volunteer to use her gun again. And this was probably for the better, he had seen how her hands had trembled.

And now, he saw the second advantage of Silver being an ex-soldier – he was used to following orders, to believing what the superiors had to say. Gildarts was different, he questioned if Ur was really fit for the field again, especially considering that it had been months since she had last been outside. It would take a while for his team to become what he needed it to be and he hoped that perhaps, one day, he could sleep during the nightshift, knowing that his ex-partner was doing the same and that she was not awake, pacing around, beating herself up for something that was a long lost battle.

“I’m nearly sure that she’d tell you if you’d ask,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Look, this might get a bit difficult. Ur and I have been partners for an awfully long time … and she has been rather … _territorial_ in the past.”

He certainly made it sound like they had had a divorce and in a way, it had been worse than this because as partners, they had trusted each other with their lives and Ur at least had mentioned more than once that she trusted him more than any of her – usually rather bland – boyfriends. He had felt the same way about her. They went back too long and there was little he could hold against a woman who had been fearless enough to dangle from a roof on a rope to dismantle a bomb even after the superiors had said that they were willed to make the sacrifice.

“You mean … she might disapprove of me,” Fullbuster said and if Gildarts was completely honest, he knew that his ex-partner was still testing the waters and would likely wait for a situation to show the newcomer up. This was what she did, she waited patiently before she struck when no one would have expected her to. It had made her incomparable at NAHA and it had made her a popular agent of ECID after she had changed the employer.

“…she doesn’t take kindly to being replaced,” Gildarts said after a moment, shrugging. It was an enormous understatement, Ur loathed the mere idea of it and she could be unpredictable in her rage. Although, as always, the fear of being replaced was not the complete story but merely the cover for far more. “Anyway, why is it taking so long for her to get back? Did she finally fall for Dreyar’s charms and is making out with him?”

“This is _disgusting_ , Gildarts,” the woman in question huffed as she dragged the medical examiner into the room. “I was making coffee and I was sending him to rest a little.”

“Something that is really not necessary, Lund,” the black-haired man replied quietly, his cheeks pale as always. He was, after all, impossible to embarrass and this was making it even funnier to try because Ur never remained as unfazed by it as well. “But since you insist, _mom_ , I’ll go and take a nap.”

“Anyone else calls me mom and I’ll poison you,” she threatened as she gently pushed him into the resting room before she rested the coffee pot onto her desk. “He identified the victim, by the way, and the poor girl fits the pattern.”

“So the human sacrifice theory is still go?” Fullbuster asked as he straightened up, returning his feet to the ground, perhaps in an attempt to appear as more interested.

Gildarts nearly laughed, Ur had never cared about things like this as most of the things she said were meant to help her think and not to help anyone else.

“Yes,” she confirmed as she started to pace around in the room. “It actually gets even better … I talked with Ivan about it and he suggested that whoever is our killer follows Northman rites for his or her sacrifices.”

“…Dreyar knew and he didn’t tell us?” Gildarts asked as he punched his table and was about to get up when Ur’s glare made him stop his movements. “C’mon, Lund, you can’t be happy about this either. He should have told us.”

“I’m actually pretty sure he tried and you two didn’t listen,” she replied sharply as she sat down on her desk, pouring coffee into her mug. “It took me ten minutes to get it out of him what he meant.”

“And your patience is saint like, unlike mine,” he admitted as he sat down again. “What makes him so sure of this?”

“Ah, yes,” she said as she clapped her hands and smiled. “This is the interesting part – he didn’t even hear that you guys considered human sacrifices as a motif until I mentioned it. And then, he started some monologue about it – very interesting, by the way—“

“Lund, stay on topic,” Gildarts groaned as he rubbed his temples. “Listening to Dreyar about it all is hard enough, don’t become like him.”

“I think I’d look great in a lab coat,” she said with a wicked grin and he was tempted to throw his shoe at her. “Anyway, it’s in the way they were all killed. The cause of death—”

“—was that they suffocated,” Fullbuster threw in as he leaned over his own desk, a frown on his face. “Then their skulls were split open and finally, they were cut open.”

“Exactly in that order, yes,” she nodded as she took a sip from her coffee. “Suffocating means no air. Now guess what that means, Gildarts.”

He raised an eyebrow at her enthusiasm. It had been a while since he had last seen her this involved in a case and he was hopeful that this might mean that she could be recovering again. “Tell me,” he said as he crossed his arms. “I know you want to tell us so do it.”

“So after Ivan brought me onto this new path, I did some research,” she said as she grinned into her coffee, “and I found out that the actual cause of death is what marks the deity the sacrifice is for. In this case, oh surprise, an air deity.”

“So we are dealing with some religious fanatic?” Fullbuster asked and Gildarts had to admit that he was thinking the same but that he was smart enough not to tell Ur this.

“We are,” she nodded, not even bothering with anger. “And here come things that help us a little further. In Northman culture, you sacrifice something for the deity assigned to your protection. This is one thing. The second is that all the killings have been performed professionally and with the same knife. I had Ivan make a theory about what sort of knife. A dagger with a curved blade. You are welcome.”

Gildarts smiled as he pressed his fingertips together while his glance crossed the room to where Fullbuster was sitting, speechless, as it had been expected. And this was exactly what Gildarts had gotten Ur back for. She was the one Ivan Dreyar liked to talk to and the only one he had ever voiced a mere theory to. Everyone else either got facts or nothing. “Do you have even more?” he asked, pushing his luck a little. “Like – the weapon’s material or the way the culprit chose the victims? Or does the culture demand random killings?”

“No.”

“What do you mean by ‘no’?” Fullbuster asked, sparing Gildarts the effort of having to do the same which was good because Ur would not have appreciated Gildarts asking stupid questions. That she was tolerating the newcomer doing the same was confusing for him.

“ _Sacrifice_ ,” she said as she started to paced around again. “What do you usually mean when you say ‘my, that’s quite a sacrifice I’m making here’?”

“That I give up or refuse myself something I care about,” the newcomer said, a frown on his face. “So that’s a no to random killings?”

“Yes,” she said as she turned to look at Gildarts. “The newbie’s smart – I hope you’re keeping him,” she said offhandedly before she continued. “So yes, the victims all knew their killer. Which explains why most of them showed no signs of struggle.”

“That’s what Dreyar meant when he talked about the injuries that were missing?” Gildarts asked as he tilted his head. He had worked with the man for far too long and he had developed the unfortunate habit of not listening well enough and this was what had hampered with their investigation. He could not blame the newcomer, Fullbuster was a soldier, someone who killed, not someone to figure out how someone had died.

“Yes, the missing bruises or scratches that would have indicated a fight ,” she nodded as she scratched her head. “Anyway, so we need to find a possible connection between the victims so we can perhaps find the killer. That’s one thing. The next is that the moment Ivan wakes up and gets back to his lab, he’ll find out what the dagger is made off.”

“So we have a trace?” Gildarts asked as he straightened up. “So we need to—”

“Find the connection, find out where to buy such a dagger and who bought it and hope there’s a match,” Fullbuster completed and for a moment, Gildarts was nearly sure that Ur was smiling as she turned away.

“Exactly,” she said as she yawned, stretching as she crossed the room. “And since you seem to know what to do, I wish you a good … morning. It’s bedtime for me. If you need me, wake me up. Otherwise, see you later.”

“Night,” Gildarts said as he got up and switched on the computers. “Fullbuster, we have seven hours to save our manly pride. If she wakes up and we don’t have at least a suspect, we’re done for.”

“Done for?” the newcomer replied as he frowned. “We haven’t had a trace in weeks and no one complained. So what changed now?”

“The fact that she’ll never let us live it down if we need her to tell us how to do our jobs. We may be the muscle on this team and be faced with an over dimensionally huge brain – but we won’t let her show us up like we’re babies,” Gildarts said as he frowned deeply. “Go get Ivan, he needs to tell me something about the dagger, if it can be antique.”

“Waking him up sounds like a bad idea.”

“That’s why you are doing it.”


	2. ii.

 

**intelligent black eyes that are not really black**

* * *

Silver was taking the last sip of his cold coffee when the door to the sleeping room opened and a tired and dishevelled Ur Lund made her appearance, carrying her shoes in her hand as she headed over to the coffee maker, switching it on before she rolled her shoulders and threw her shoes onto her desk before her wrinkled jacket followed suit.

“Morning,” he greeted as he leaned back in his chair. “Clive is down in interrogations.”

“You caught the culprit?” she asked as she unlocked the closet behind her desk and pulled out yet another burgundy jacket and a fresh t-shirt along with a shopping bag. “Good job.”

“Clive said you should come downstairs as soon as possible,” he said as he rested his feet on his desk. “But you know, if you want to go home to freshen up a bit first—”

“We have showers here at headquarters,” she interrupted as she grabbed a pair of sneakers. “And you could do me a favour and wait for the coffee before you bring it downstairs. That might take a while.”

“You know, it’s pretty cliché for the only woman on the team to make the coffee,” he remarked as he rested his chin on his fist while he slowly raised his eyebrow.

“The coffee is for me, _just for me_ ,” she replied as she yawned again. “And for the record, I don’t care if it’s cliché. Gil can’t make coffee to save his life. He makes something weaker than water.”

He smirked as she stepped out of the office before he shook his head. He did not understand her because she was far too calm for his liking. He had expected a slight rivalry between her and him, simply given by the fact that he had replaced her as Clive’s partner and most people would feel bothered by this. Not that he minded that they actually got along. He was just not too sure that she really approved of his presence on the team because he would not put it past her skill set to deceive someone by feigning approval.

But she seemed to be their only link to the confusing medical examiner and so there was little Silver could actually do because he had to admit that it was a very good start that they had solved a very confusing case in less than thirty hours after being in the complete dark for weeks which had been rather embarrassing.

(Especially considering that they had snatched the case away from another team.)

“Morning,” the quiet voice of the medical examiner said as Ivan Dreyar poked his head through the door. “Is Ur already up?”

It was the first time Silver had heard the man call someone by something but ‘agent’ or simply the last name and it was also the first time the man sounded nearly normal. The agent had heard stories about the ‘raven in the cellar’ and he had gotten that the general consensus was that the man had deep-running issues.

“Um, Agent Lund went to get a shower,” he said as he spun around in his chair. “Is there something I should tell her for you?”

“…that I have something new for her case,” the shorter man said as he looked at his hands. “Something that has higher priority than Clive’s request for her to come downstairs. That’s just showing off. I have something of _importance_.”

“No worries, I got it,” Silver said with a nod before he stopped for a second. “…you’re pretty good at what you’re doing, you know.”

It was something difficult to understand the black-haired man but Silver was no idiot and he knew that if the other man had not been as cooperative as he had been during the night, they would not have a possible culprit sitting in the interrogation room right now. So maybe this small compliment was in order and it might just get him into the man’s good graces which might mean that he would tell them all he knew from the start the next time around.

Only, it did not work quite as planed.

“Do you know what it means to be gifted?” the medical examiner asked sharply, his eyes narrowed slightly. “My own parents never understood me. Ninety percent of the agents do not understand what I tell them.”

“Agent Lund understands you, however,” Silver said as he frowned a little. He had assumed that Clive had been joking when he had talked of Lund falling for Dreyar’s charms but maybe it had not been a joke. It had to be hard to be the two smartest people in every room so maybe that was the secret why they went along. Shared suffering.

“She makes efforts, more efforts than everyone else,” the examiner said with a little nod and a faint smile. “She is gifted – or _cursed_ , as I’d say – as well. She just gets along with people better than I do. She is like a—”

“—sister?” Silver suggested, a little hopeful, because it would suck if the only interesting woman in this place was the girlfriend/babysitter to the resident genius.

“I would have said ‘bridge’ but sister works as well, yes,” the man said with a little nod. “Or maybe a compass because she directs me through stressful situations.”

“You’d do the same for me, Ivan,” the woman in question said as she appeared in the doorframe, a warm smile on her face and something like understanding in her eyes. She did not wear her formal clothing – the red jacket was under her arm – but jeans and a shirt and she looked tired although she seemed awfully chipper which was weird. “I was at the interrogation room, Gildarts is done there. You caught the right guy.”

“Then you’ll be happy to hear that I got new work for you,” the examiner said as he smiled uneasily back at her. “The case that spawns new questions each day threw up a few more.”

“I don’t see how that’s good news,” she muttered as she poured coffee into her mug. “But I’ll be right behind you in the morgue. I apologise, newbie, but the plan changed. You can have the rest of the coffee, though. This case will have me up for days without any caffeine.”

Silver nodded slightly as he sat down again, pouring coffee into his own mug. He had to wait for Clive to deliver the report so he could sign it and finally get off work and get some sleep in his own bed because the room where they were supposed to rest was not up to his standards.

“Dreyar got Ur, yes?” Clive asked as he strolled into the room, a smug smile in place and his steps bouncy. “Too bad, I need to talk with them both about their work from last night.”

“Is there a problem with it?” Silver asked as he frowned, taking a sip from the coffee – finally something that was strong and not some watery mess that did not even taste like proper coffee. Agent Lund had been right; she made the best coffee on the team.

“Ur should have reminded me that Dreyar isn’t allowed to work nightshifts without prior discussion,” the redhead sighed as he slumped down on his chair. “The boss scolded me, told me that I shouldn’t use Ur to mistreat our one and only medical examiner.”

“But we solved the case,” Silver protested as he crossed his arms. “We had the job to catch the killer. We caught the killer. Mission complete.”

“Not that easy,” Clive muttered as he rested his forehead on his desk. “First of all, the boss wasn’t happy that Ur joined this team but she can’t say much against it because it’s less an actual joining and more a return. So it all comes down to Ivan and Ur working a nightshift and having been on duty for more than forty hours. That’s a breach of the rules.”

“…how bad can this get?” he asked as he crossed his arms and took another sip of his coffee. “I mean – can we get suspended for this?”

“Babasama said she’d talk to them about it,” the team leader said as he rolled his shoulders. “And there is still a small possibility that they get all of our heads out of that sling.”

“Is Lund a good liar?”

“She is one hell of an actress and as Dreyar is always nervous around Babasama, that might mask things. Anyway, I need your signature and then, we’re out of here.”

* * *

 

**so far from everything you know**

* * *

 

Ur Lund arrived at the headquarters on time and scanned her ID card before she clipped her badge to her belt and stepped into the elevator that brought her to the top level where her office was located. Well, their office. She was not quite sure if she liked the idea of having to share her office again but she did like being in a team and so she pushed open the door with her foot before she strolled into the room, resting the box with the cookies on the table in the middle of the room.

“Evening, Ur,” Gildarts greeted as he lifted his head from the desk. “It’s gonna be a slow night so we could look at low priority cases.”

“We have no low priority cases these days,” she said as she opened her bag and pulled out her tablet before she kicked off her shoes and sat down on the couch, feet beneath her body. “So I’ll look at my case.”

“Why don’t we have any low priority cases anymore?” he asked as he followed her, grabbing a few cookies in passing. “They were there when I went home yesterday.”

“And I had the shift after you yesterday,” she replied with an innocent shrug. “And you don’t really think that I’d waste my time with cases like that, do you?”

“What did you do?” he asked as he sipped on his tea. “Don’t tell me—”

“Got rid of them,” she said with a sly smirk as she leaned back, scrolling through her files. Getting to mess with Gildarts was one of the many perks of her job. “And yes, that includes the case where you suggested an undercover operation in a strip bar.”

“I never hated you quite as much as I hate you right now,” he huffed as he left her alone and returned to his desk. “I was actually looking forward to that job!”

“I am not surprised to hear that,” she said as she got up and paced around in the office. “The thing is, Gildarts, we are a team now.”

“And it’s a male-dominated team,” he replied as he looked at her in frustration. “You can’t do that to me! That’s plain cruel!”

“Sweetheart, it’s _cruel_ that I’m stuck with doing the thinking for you and the newbie,” she replied as she frowned at the files, once again coming to the same conclusion: that she was missing a crucial point. “And you don’t see me complain about it.”

“Because you wanted to be a consultant after what has happened,” he replied and she found herself silent for a moment.

Yes, he was right. She had asked for all of this, for the retreat from the field, for the tranquil desk job. She could not deny that she had felt safer when she had been in her own office and it had all belonged to her and no one had dared to eat her food or to drink her cookies. But in the end, she had never been made for safety. She had liked it because she had been scared out of her mind after all that had happened. But now, things had changed and she had to face the facts that she was part of a team and that it was time for her to work as part of said team.

“I could never understand why it didn’t bother you at all,” she said quietly as she looked up from her tablet. “Why you were so okay with messing it all up.”

“I am not okay with it,” he said as he shrugged, helplessly, “but I realised that I can’t beat myself up over it … by the way, you won’t like this,” he added as he held out a piece of paper.

“Let me guess – the extended physical,” she groaned as she ran both hands through her short hair. “Well, that will be interesting.”

“You really filed in for a transfer back to field work?” he asked as he buried his face in his hands. “And you – are you sure you’ll pass the tests? After the last time…”

“I’m the one who preaches that we all got to face our fears,” she said as she got up, pale-lipped, and unlocked the top drawer of her desk, pulling out her gun. “Now it’s my turn to do what I tell everyone else to do as well.”

“Your fears are well-founded, though,” Gildarts replied as he cracked his bones in an absentminded manner. “I could see if I can get you out of it … maybe have them make you a field consultant or something.”

“Or you could just let me do my job,” she replied as she straightened up. “Look, the agent handling the test is still in the house. I will go and get it just done.”

She knew why he doubted her ability to pull it off. The last times that she had handled a gun, she had had shaky hands and one time, she had had something that had looked suspiciously much like a panic attack and it had taken Ivan’s expertise to cover it up and to teach her how to avoid such situations in the future. It had been of utmost importance for her to get away from it all and so she had become a consulting agent, someone who had rarely if ever left the headquarters because it had been more important to recover from the traumatic experience she had been through. And she had questioned if she was even a good enough agent because Gildarts had been through the same hell and he was just fine. So for the longest time, she had mused whether she was just too weak.

In the end, she had come to the conclusion that it did not make her week that she needed time. Gildarts had been there but it had not been the one covered in blood and brain matter. He had not looked like he had come straight out of a horrible horror movie afterwards. He had not been forbidden from showering until the evidence had been gathered.

And this had been hell for her, especially since she had always hated it when she had been covered in blood and guts and that had really taken the crown.

“You know … whether you pass it with a flawless score or not, you’ll be a member of this team,” he said as he unlocked the ammunition closet. “And we need you as yourself. We don’t need you as a field player. Fullbuster and I got that covered. We need you as a smart woman who has a lot of bright ideas.”

“Thanks,” she said as she took the ammunition from him. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

The irony was that she did not even fear that she could lose her position on the team. What worried her was that someone might make the connection between her bad score and the incident because that might make it necessary that she talked to an expert about it and this was about the last thing she wanted.

Stepping out of the office, she nearly crashed into the newbie and for a second, she hoped that he would not ask but before she could disappear into the elevator, she heard the question – “Where’s Lund going?” – and Gildarts’ honest reply, that she was going to take the extended physical and then, thankfully, the doors closed behind her.

* * *

**the distance between truth and reality**

* * *

Gildarts was an impatient man but he was pretty sure that no one could blame him for it, especially not after a whole week had passed since Ur had received the results of her extended physical and she had not said a single word about it. He had feared that it might be bad but he had not expected it to be so horrible that she did not even want to talk about it.

In the end, it was Ivan who addressed the topic when he arrived without any dead bodies or bad news while Ur was out to ask a few questions in regards to her own case.

“Hello,” the medical examiner greeted as he sat down on the absent woman’s chair and smiled at his own hands. “Ur’s birthday is coming up and I was wondered if you were planning something to celebrate it.”

Gildarts frowned slightly because he had no idea how this had happened but aside from Ur who had always been Ivan’s translator for a very long time now, Fullbuster was making steady progress in the art of handling the man who was too intelligent for his own sake while Gildarts was still walking around in the dark. He had the suspicion that the newcomer’s progress was because of his wariness of whatever Ur might be planning which was the reason why he kept a close time on the woman.

“Doctor Dreyar,” the agent said as he sat up straight and smiled thinly. “Did Ur talk to you about the results of her test? And how she feels about it? Because I’m getting worried.”

And this was the truth. Gildarts had known the woman since he had been a child and the idea that she was keeping a secret from him was saddening for him. Especially since they were on the same team now. Especially since they ad been partner for seven years – three at NAHA and four at ECID – before she had been transferred to her calm desk job.

“I think she was … surprised,” the other man said as he shrugged a little. “Which is a given, I think. The results were surprising for me as well and I have seen her right before she went to take the extended.”

“…she passed, didn’t she?” Fullbuster threw in from behind a large stack of reports and for a moment, Gildarts was tempted to laugh because this was impossible. Ur had not touched her gun in nearly a year, she had kept it locked up in the armoury and she had not even made an attempt in staying in touch with her marksmanship. When she had had been obligated to do combat training, she had done hand-to-hand combat, nothing else.  At the same time, they were talking about a woman who was considered to have a nearly flawless kinetic memory so maybe it was true what they said about a few things – once it had been learned, it could never be forgotten again.

“Flying colours,” Dreyar confirmed as he shrugged. “I think that’s why she didn’t talk about it. She knows how it looks.”

“Like she faked her issues to get out of field work for a while, yeah,” Gildarts nodded as he pinched the bridge of the nose, a gesture that had become a little too popular in his environment lately for him not to use it as well.

“I wouldn’t let her use a gun for a while,” the soft-spoken man said as he shook his head before he rambled on and on about something that Gildarts did not completely understand – all he got was that Ivan Dreyar had a theory that explained why Ur could use her gun in a secured areal – like the test – but might not be able to do the same out on the field.

“Or maybe the opposite,” Fullbuster threw in as he threw the reports onto the next stack. “Like, she might be one of the people who come through when the going gets rough.”

Maybe the team was not as bad as Gildarts had first assumed when it had seemed like Fullbuster and Ur would never see eye-to-eye, right at the beginning when he had made comments that had surely not made her like him. She was still calling him ‘newbie’ although it had been months since they had become a team but it had been a while since she had yelled at him for eating her food. By now, she was simply bringing enough food for the whole team and Ivan because “since I cook anyway, it’s not much more effort to make food for four” and the newbie was bringing the dessert, usually cake from the patisserie in the middle of town.

Between Ur’s cooking and Fullbuster’s desserts, is was unsurprising that their team – they really needed an official name – was merrily collecting more and more hours at the gym in the headquarters, currently even holding the record which made them somewhat proud.

“Both might work,” Gildarts muttered as he sighed deeply, pouring tea into a fresh cup and handing it to Dreyar. “Look, we’ll wait for her and meanwhile, we’ll discuss Ur’s birthday party.”

“That’s going to have to wait,” Fullbuster said as he got up. “I’m going out; duty calls.”

Dreyar waited for a few moments before he arched an eyebrow and looked at Gildarts in confusion. “I thought Ur was going to tell the boss about the team today,” he said quietly.

Gildarts nodded slowly. He had not understood why Ur had been the chosen one, the one to tell Ooba Babasama how the team – the one Gildarts himself had formed – was doing but the boss had asked for her and so they had obeyed. He knew what Ur was going to do, what she was going to say. Not because she had asked for his approval, oh no. She had merely informed him about her plan to have Ivan Dreyar listed as an official member of the team. This was a big thing and yet, there was no way Gildarts would even try to stop her.

“Ur is a good person,” he said after a moment of awkward silence. “And a damn good agent. That’s why I am so happy to have her on board.”

Ivan nodded slowly as he smiled uncomfortably. “She has been putting her own investigations on hold for the team,” he said then before he turned to leave, the tea still in his hand. “I’ll bring the cup back later but Agent Conbolt brought in a body.”


	3. Chapter 3

_**iii.** _

* * *

**where can i get the request form for a team that is less messed up?**

* * *

Silver knew that he had screwed up the moment he strolled into the office and the first thing he heard was how Agent Lund said – more enthusiastic than he had ever heard her before – “I talked with the boss today and she agreed to make Ivan a permanent addition to our team; I convinced her that we’ll continue to be a good influence” and it gave him a weird sensation in his stomach – he was certain; he was  _supposed_ to feel guilty over what he had done and the consequences it would have for his team but he just did not feel any guilt for his actions – because he was pretty sure that the moment Ooba Babasama heard that Silver had just killed a man with a very good reason, of course, and not  _just because_ , she would withdraw her approval and this would be more than just some rain on Lund’s parade.

“Congratulations, Ur,” Clive said as he clapped twice, a warm smile on his face as he took a sip from his tea. “Long-time goal achieved, huh?”

 _Fuck_. For a normal person, this situation would have been horrible because Clive seemed so genuinely happy which was the first time since the messy breakup from a waitress called Tara (no one had liked the girl, by the way) and Lund was rocking back and forth on her desk like a little child that had just gotten exactly what it had wished for on Christmas Eve. Silver faintly realised that he was about to become the biggest asshole on the team for ruining the chance to have an addition to it but what had happened had happened and there was nothing he could do to change it even though the mission had been some kind of personal goal to Agent Lund – _“He brought Gil and me in,”_ she had said on the day they had met – because she had felt like she needed to give something back and for Clive, it had been something that was not quite a charity cause but something he had likely just agreed to because it had been his ex-partner who had been at his side for at least seven years who had wanted to do this.

“Agent Fullbuster,” Lund said as she spotted him in the door, her good mood visibly softening her up, “I’ve decided to start calling you by your last name from this point onwards.”

 ** _Fuck._** He crossed the room in silence, locking his gun into the top drawer of his desk before he lost his tense posture and stood there like someone had emptied a bucket of water over his head. “…during the operation, there was an incident,” he said as he headed back towards the door. “A man was trying to kill his wife. To save her, I had to … shoot him. He’s dead. His wife is critically injured and his daughter is downstairs. I’ll go see Babasama about this.”

The sound of Lund’s laughter would follow him to his grave because _god_ , he had never heard a noise like that. She sounded like she was not quite sure if she was just angry or sad and seemed to settle for being upset. “You are kidding,” she hissed as she shook her head, her cheeks paler than snow, and then, the light in her eyes just went _out_. “You aren’t kidding.”

“Look,” he started as he turned around to look away from her, “I killed before. I killed people nicer than that guy. I killed people better than that guy in ways far more painful.”

He did not quite understand her anger and her general emotional state because they were law enforcement officers and they all had encountered situations where a decision had had to be made so why on earth was she overreacting like this? Not that he had seen anything from her reaction yet because just as he looked back into her direction, the shortest and lightest member of the team got off her desk and made her way around it before she threw her files – the ones that belonged to the case that was hers – into the shredder before she looked at her whiteboard and ripped off all the things she had pinned there, ripping them apart with her bare hands. She was furious and she was willed to destroy, not even flinching when the paper cut into her hands and the white became stained with blood.

“Ur, c’mon,” Clive said with a sigh as he crossed his arms behind his head, entirely unfazed by both her exaggerated reaction and the general situation. “Those things happen. You know that. We all did it.”

She twirled around, a raging storm forcibly contained in a small woman’s body, and her glare met him. _“When we were with NAHA, yes,”_ she snapped as she ripped her badge off her belt and threw it into her drawer with a clinging noise. “But I got news for you, Agent Clive, we’re no longer with NAHA.”

Then, as if to end her quite rage with a bang, she punched straight through the whiteboard before she grabbed her bag, sidestepping Silver on her way to the door.

“You guys are all a bunch of selfish assholes,” she hissed as she stopped for a second, her shoulders trembling. “I’ll be gone for two weeks. Try to better yourself in the meantime. And because I am a bitter bitch right now, I’ll take Ivan with me. Thank you for ruining my hard work, _newbie_.”

And then, she was gone and Silver looked over his shoulder to Clive who seemed to be far too relaxed right now – or maybe it just seemed that way because Lund had overreacted. Silver would never have guessed that she was a drama queen – her nickname was _Ice_ Queen, after all – but she certainly knew how to make a scene over something unimportant … because in the end, they all would have to die one day. Some earlier, some later. It was the way the world worked, there was no reason to cry about it.

“Seven months,” Clive said as he pinched the bridge of his nose before he reached out to swat a piece of Styrofoam – part of Lund’s whiteboard, likely – off his desk. “That gotta be a new record for her … or maybe she just got a longer fuse these days.”

This was slightly odd; Silver had always assumed that Clive and Lund had been one of the teams TV shows were about … always in synch, never a single fight – or if there was a fight, it could be solved in one episode or maybe two.

 _“Excuse me?”_ he asked sharply as he reached for the necessary forms he had kept in his desk, knowing that his temper and his attitude would lead him to this point _sooner or later_.

“Ur – _Agent Lund_ , right now,” he corrected himself, “has _horrible_ conflict management skills and chooses, by default, flight. She runs away, gets rid of her negative emotions and comes back. Like I said, we all did it. I have done it, she has done it. She likes to pretend that since she has come to ECID, she has become some kind of saint … but she hasn’t.”

This struck him as a little odd – the woman could barely handle her gun without getting trembling hands and it was a minor miracle that she had passed the test – but Silver did not care about this at all. He would own up to the consequences of his actions and if he was not completely wrong about their superior, it would be good afterwards. “You don’t seem too angry, Clive,” Silver said as he scratched his neck, impatient to get out of the office to go see the director over this issue.

“That’s ‘cause I leave the anger to her – it’s bad for the skin,” the other agent said and not for the first time since the day he had been assigned to be Gildarts Clive’s partner, Silver Fullbuster was wondering if the man was for real.

* * *

  **it’s not that much of a long way home if you never really left**

* * *

Ur let her pride take over and so she did not return to the headquarters during the working hours of what should have been her team for exactly two weeks and although this meant that she had to suffer disadvantages – having to interrogate the culprit she had finally managed to track down between Gildarts’ nightshift and the newbie’s late shift, for example – but it made her very smug to stroll into the office after two weeks of absence and to file the reports she had written during her absence while she waited for the others to make their appearances.

She had gotten a rather unhappy call from Gildarts on her third day away and afterwards, she had turned off the phone he had had the number to. She had assumed that he had understood her refusal to talk to him but the twenty missed calls on her mailbox – all courtesy of her ex-partner – had taught her that there was nothing worse in this world than a Gildarts who chose to remain ignorant to her attempts to ignore him.

Not that it had been necessary that he had called her. She had known what he wanted to tell her; mostly that her outburst had been uncalled for – and he had laced this comment with implications of her hypocrisy which had been not exactly a good motivation for her to come back to the team a single day earlier than she had announced.

(Gildarts really needed to learn the rules of her breaks – that she did not want to hear any painful truths when she had already flown the scene.)

She did not have to be called out on her hypocrisy to be aware of it. She was, at all times, painfully aware of everything she had ever done to ensure the safety of her country. She remembered exactly how many times she had shot to kill, to immobilise – _she did not forget._ Each time she had curled her finger to pull the trigger was engraved into her muscle memory. She had never been able to forget anything and this was the biggest different to Gildarts – and the reason why he slept well at night and she did not.

_Never look away from the life you have taken, Agent. You can’t wash your hands clean. You can’t shake this burden off your shoulders – ever. So what will you do? Break or soldier on?_

The day she had helped to capture Deliora, a terrorist wanted in eleven countries, back when she had been still a part of NAHA, her downfall had begun. The man had been right and he had hit her where it had hurt. It had been one thing to kill for the sake of the country. It was another to consider that even those people she had had to kill because there had been no other way had had a family, people who genuinely loved them.

She had kept going although she had changed her uniform because it had appeared as fitting. She had never wanted to look into the man’s eyes again because it had been the only time in her entire life that she had been freezing.

And she had gotten away, she had found a job where she was safe from people like Deliora, where the worst kind of person she had met so far had been this twisted serial killer who had gone strictly after blond girls who were five years old. She was happier now than she had been when she had been with NAHA although she had earned more money back in the days.

But there were some things more valuable than money – a better schedule, a comfortable chair, view onto the park.

She was _happy_ at ECID and she liked her team – although a part of her still wanted to strangle Gildarts for talking about things he could impossible understand because he had never looked into Deliora’s eyes to see hell – and she was not going to quit either of them for real.

“…and here I was hoping to get your chair again,” Gildarts sighed as he smirked at her while he tried to reach for the cookies on her desk. “What? No flowery apology letter?”

“Did you ever read them?” she asked, her fury contained once again by her iron self-control, as she smiled back at him. “Babasama called me.”

“So you realise that your little episode was unnecessary?” he asked and for a moment, she was tempted to do the same all over again.

Out of all the people she knew, Gildarts should be the one to know that she hated nothing more than the sensation of being trapped in a situation. And just then, the trap had snapped close and she had lost her patience. She had tried to be nice, had tried to be a good colleague. Truth be told, her patience had been slipping for her for months because while everything had gone perfect, she had just not made any progress with her own case. So she had been a time bomb and she had exploded when she had learned that her dream of building the team in a fashion that was best for them all had been killed.

“I wouldn’t consider it _unnecessary_ ,” she replied as she bit her lip, scanning the room. “I needed to get rid of my negative energies. The newbie’s mistake came at an unfortunate point of time but believe me, I’d have quitted for far lesser reasons as well.”

“Like – someone stealing your cookies during nightshift?” he asked and she chuckled as she pushed the box with the latest cookies across the table.

“I’ve quit you over a sandwich before,” she reminded him as the laughter was still on her face because she was in a good mood today. “And I doubt that it’s a big step from a mouldy sandwich in my drawer to stolen cookies.”

“You could never prove that was mine, though,” he said as he took a cookie and went over to his desk. “Fullbuster is still on his break. I don’t think he took it personal that you quit like that, by the way.”

“Did you tell him he should get used to it?” she asked as she closed a folder and put it into the desk before she took a sip of her coffee.

“Remember that he comes from the army – you can’t quit just like that there,” Gildarts said with a shrug before his pager went off. “Dreyar needs me down in the lab. We have no new cases so look at one of the old ones.”

“I wanted to go out for lunch first,” she said as she reached for her coat. “Nothing personal.”

“Can you get me some coffee on your way back?” he asked and she rolled her eyes as she strolled out of the room, a smirk on her face.

“You know, you’d solve thirty percent of my problems by just going there and actually asking her out,” she sighed as she looked over her shoulder and then, she was out of the office and within the next five minutes, she was on the streets and just let her feet carry her through town. She was used to doing this, she had the unfortunate habit of going for long walks when she could not solve a case as fast as she wanted to and this was bothersome.

She was not all that surprised when she ended up in front of the newbie’s house and because she was a polite person (and because she had amends to make), she rung the bell while she reigned her facial expression into something akin to a smile. She was not always a nice person but she should have considered that Silver Fullbuster did not know her habits because he had never been witness to one of her little episodes before.

Even Ivan had been prepared the first time she had stormed out because he had experienced her as a raging storm right from the start while the newbie had been lulled into a wrong sense of security by her long stage of serenity. Usually, that did not happen, usually she remained as a furious fire, usually, she did not soften up. **_Ever._**

“Lund,” he greeted, surprised, as he opened the door with a generous amount of flour on his face. “What a, uh, nice surprise.”

“Not here to yell at you,” she replied as she lifted her hands, a slight smile on her face. “Can I ask why there is flour on your face?”

“…Clive filled you in?” he asked as he cracked his bones. “That the girl stays with me until we can find someone to take her in?”

“He mentioned it in one of his angry voicemails,” she said with a nod as the smile on her face grew considerably. “My, big bad newbie gets ordered around by a girl.”

“She wanted cookies, real cookies, not the bought ones,” he said and there was a certain fatigue in his eyes. “ _Kids_.”

Her smile turned into something uneasy as she nodded, her hands clenched into fists. “I could offer my help with the cookies,” she said as she rocked back and forth on her feet, one of her many nervous habits. People at headquarters usually believed that she did not like children because she avoided them like the plague whenever there was one there for some reason. The truth was the exact opposite. She liked them and this was why it was still so hard to think about the failure, about the _scar_ that day had left on her mind.

“Since I burned the first three attempts, you’re welcome to try your luck – _Bambi_ ,” he said and she rolled her eyes as she felt relief. She had worried, a little, that her outburst had killed the entire chemistry on the team but it seemed to be still alright. “What are you doing off work today, anyway? You should be working, right?”

“I filed my reports and Gildarts went out to get us a new case, probably,” she shrugged as she followed him into his home. “And once I’m on my way back, I’ll try to get a certain barista’s phone number.”

“Don’t tell me that you decided to become Clive’s love rival,” he said in mock shock as he opened the door to the kitchen. “That would be a hard blow for everyone everywhere.”

“I get annoyed with his way not to make a single move,” she said as she raised an eyebrow as she looked at the chaos in the kitchen. “And no one wants another Tara disaster, right?”

“What did that girl call you again?” he asked and she glared at him but it was too late, in the most exaggerated falsetto ever, he had started to quote the annoying woman. _“So this is why you work late, Gildarts! You spend your time with, with this – wanton warrior mistress!”_

“I really wonder what he told her about our nightshifts,” she said as she pressed her lips together. It had not hurt her to be insulted, it had just frustrated her a little.

“This is an excellent question,” he said as he led her down a hall. “I guess this is the part where most people’d say ‘sorry for the mess’ but I’m actually not sorry at all; you didn’t exactly announce your visit.”

She rolled her eyes as she followed him, hands in her pockets and her posture belonged to someone who had not known the definition of ‘relaxed’ for more than a year now. “Doesn’t look that horrible,” she said nonchalantly as she stepped into the kitchen. “Okay – I take that one back.”

* * *

**it’s just the first out of many little occasions of backstabbing, nothing serious**

* * *

Gildarts had to admit that he was happy that everyone had calmed down again and that Ur had returned to the team without him having to beg her to come back – she always came back, he knew this – and so he was in a very good mood as he spun around in his chair, reading a file. He did not understand her, did not understand why her only way to deal with stress was to leave the situation but this was the way it was and he had to deal with it, no matter how much it displeased him.

The woman in question was moving in silent, smooth movements on her mat – it was a silent night and she had nothing to do and so it did not bother anyone that she did yoga rather than to sit on her desk and to stare at files.

They would probably get to take turns in sleeping – Ur being likely to take the last round because that was what she did, usually – and if someone had remembered to bring a set of cards, they could waste away the night by playing a bit while they waited for the morning to come.

“Ur,” he said as he turned to look at her – she was standing on her head, a grin on her face – and he rolled his eyes at her for being a little childish for a change. “Where’s Fullbuster?”

“Here, _boss_ ,” the man said sarcastically as he threw a stack of folders onto his desk before he gave an uneasy smile. “I, um, had to bring someone today. My ex-wife is ill so I offered to see after Gray today.”

Gildarts did not comment on the idiocy of calling the son Gray when the father was called Silver but he was sure as hell not going to say anything. There would be a time and a place for this but not now and not in the office.

“Huh, I could get used to being called boss,” he said instead as he switched on the radio. “Anyway, I don’t mind that you brought him in.”

“Don’t get used to it, Gil,” Ur said with a smirk as she returned to her legs with a fluid movement. “I outrank you so if someone gets called boss, that’d be me and I don’t like it.”

“If you don’t like boss would supreme leader and ruler of our souls match your requirements?” he asked as he rested his chin on his hand before he spotted the black-haired boy who was standing by the door. “Fullbuster, go and pretend that you are a cool adult. Lund, keep doing what you are doing right now. I called Dreyar; we’re going to prepare an investigation.”

“An investigation?” Ur asked as she sat down on her desk, her bare feet swinging back and forth, tempting Gildarts to comment on both the green nail polish on her feet and the barely hidden enthusiasm. Well, the latter would vanish the moment he told her what this was going to be about.

“That’s what we do, Lund,” Fullbuster butted in as he set up a zone for his son to play in but this obviously did not occupy him enough not to mess with Ur.

“You don’t say, Fullbuster,” she said with a huff as she returned to her mat and her exercises. “I just feel like we’re missing a crucial part.”

“It’s undercover,” Gildarts threw in, hoping to dodge the bullet that would inevitably come for him now.

“I told you – _wait, what?_ ” she snapped as she moved into a meditative stance and closed her eyes in an attempt to calm herself. “Gildarts Clive, explain this.”

“…good evening,” Dreyar’s soft voice interrupted as the medical examiner moved into the room, frowning at Ur and throwing a confused glance at the playing boy. “Is it bring-your-child-to-work-night today?” he then inquired as he sat down on the couch, an uneasy expression on his face. He did not know many children and the few he knew were usually victims of horrible crimes.

“Emergency,” Fullbuster said as he shrugged. “I will have him sleep in about an hour, no worries. He’s already pretty sleepy.”

“I am not sleepy, dad,” the boy protested, the first thing he said at all – not that Gildarts could blame him, he had been thrown into a weird situation and he did not know anyone.

“You move pretty slow for a … six-year-old,” the medical examiner remarked drily, not even bothering to look at the boy. “Plus, you just rubbed your eyes. You are tired, boy.”

“…are you … dad, what’s the word again?” the boy asked as he looked at the doctor, wide-eyed and obviously captivated.

“ _Psychic_ ,” Fullbuster said as he frowned at Dreyar, an expression of vague frustration on  his face.

Ur snorted from where she was meditating and Dreyar rolled his eyes at her before he directed his attention at the little boy. “I am not,” he said as he toyed with his sleeve. “I just happen to be extraordinarily observant.”

“The key word is body language,” Gildarts threw in, hoping to spare the boy the speech he would likely not understand anyway.

“Why, Clive, you are right,” the medical examiner said as he smiled a little wider than usual. “Agent Lund and I actually met when I was holding a lecture about this topic.”

This was nothing new for Gildarts, he had been there when Ur had come back and had been rambling on and on about the silent genius she had met during the meeting she had been to.

“Talking of Ur,” the man continued as he frowned a little, “I think she has fallen asleep.”

Gildarts glanced over to the woman who was still seated on her desk, her legs crossed and her breath calm. No, she did not appear as asleep to him, she was just good at what she was doing right now; meditating. “I don’t think so,” he replied as he shrugged. “Look, she is doing yoga tonight. Breathing exercises or something like that – it’s to prevent stress.”

Although stress was hardly a genuine problem for her. It was something else but although everyone in the office knew about it, they never actually talked about it because the other agents did not have to do. It was bad enough that Fullbuster had learned about the episodes by walking into the morgue while Dreyar had counted her breaths with the same precision he did everything. This had not been something Gildarts had ever wanted to occur – for Dreyar to be alone with Ur when she had an episode and for Fullbuster to walk into this because the medical examiner was easily overwhelmed with those situations and Fullbuster was supposed to believe that Ur was well.

“I know what yoga is,” the medical examiner snapped as he started to doodle around on his clipboard. “Anyway, I still think she sleeps.”

“Ur is a professional,” Gildarts argued as his gaze scanned the room, a frown on his face.

“Huh, let’s see about that,” Fullbuster said as he reached for a ball of paper on his desk, taking aim and throwing it at the woman before someone else could do something. “Nah, she’s fast asleep,” he then declared, entirely casual.

“…you do realise that she’ll kill you the moment she wakes up and we’ll say her that you threw something at her, yes?” Gildarts asked, careless as always and completely forgetting about the tired little boy who gasped, furious at the idea.

“The nice lady would hurt my dad?” the boy asked and as Dreyar had said, he sounded very tired, nearly as if a part of him had already fallen asleep which might be really funny.

“There’s no nice lady here, kiddo,” Gildarts said with a snort before he stopped himself. Ur had said barely a sentence since Gray had arrived, safe for her usual sarcastic remarks and they had hardly been something that would make a little boy consider her to be nice.

And this made it rather obvious that Silver Fullbuster had talked about his team and that he had been the one to call Ur nice although she was on his case all the time and had a knack for calling him out on his bullshit with a gleeful expression on her face.

“She wouldn’t,” Dreyar said with a snort as he poured tea into his cup. “She is really a nice woman … most of the time, unless someone signs her up for undercover work.”

It was weird how the medical examiner was walking the thin line between his usual sarcasm and rudeness – both defence mechanisms according to Ur – and something that was softer, calmer – more serene. Ivan Dreyar was not good with other people and he had been downright horrible with children in the past but he had improved along the weeks in which he had had to talk more with others, he had trained himself and this was what Ur had predicted.

“She’ll let _everyone_ live,” Fullbuster said as he tapped his pen against his desk. “She would have to be a horrible person if she would hold it against us that we are doing undercover work. I mean, it’s Babasama who makes that call.”

“Ur abhors undercover work and believe me, the moment she reads that file, she’ll be on all our throats,” Gildarts sighed as he waved around the folder in question. He had not been happy with the details of the assignment but because it had made sense, he had not argued and had accepted it like the mature adult he sometimes attempted to be.

“That bad?” Fullbuster asked and a part of the red-haired agent wanted to punch the man with all his might because the newcomer had no idea how bad it really was.

“She’s supposed to flirt with a suspect,” he explained and this seriously said everything that needed to be said.


	4. Chapter 4

_**iv.** _

* * *

 

**…so are we going to do each others’ nails next?**

* * *

 

There was an underlying tension in the room and Silver Fullbuster had no idea where it was coming from. He just knew it was there because he was no idiot and the way Clive and Dreyar tiptoed around, carefully avoiding any confrontation with Lund who was still asleep set him on edge. And this made him uncomfortable because there was something going on, something they were not telling him for some reason. _Ironically_ , Lund would have told him what was happening because she did not believe in secrecy as much as the both men did – at least not within the team. She kept her own secrets close to her heart and this was her good right – and she did not do it in a way that posed a risk to the team.

“…so,” Clive said as he crossed his arms, a smirk on his face while his eyes flickered over to where Gray was napping on the couch. “You’re divorced?”

As far as unpleasant topics went, this was one of Silver’s least favourite ones. On the other hand, he could understand why Clive was asking, especially considering that Silver had never mentioned Gray (or Mika, for that matter) before because no matter what Gildarts Clive liked to imagine, their team was not that close. They did not discuss personal stuff like panic attacks – at least that was what Dreyar had called it – or divorces.

_They just did not._

“…my ex-wife did not appreciate the idea of having a husband who went off to get himself killed in a war,” he stated drily, hoping to shut the man up this way. And it was the truth. Mika had been furious with him and then, they had decided that it might be for the better to separate before everything would be ruined between them.

“Huh,” Clive muttered as he looked over to Dreyar who was focusing suspiciously much on the book he had found somewhere. “Dreyar – what about you? Some special lady friend?”

“I believe my wife would mind this, a lot,” the medical examiner said, sarcasm dripping off his voice. “Yes, it got to be a shock for you, Clive, but I am indeed married. _Happily_ , I might add.”

“…so Ur and I are losing in the relationship comparison?” Clive asked, a frown on his face. “C’mon, we are obviously the best looking members of this team … maybe that’s why people don’t date us; we’re _too_ attractive.”

In the case of Ur Lund, it might be a serious thought – at least in Silver’s opinion – although her professionalism was likely what made it hard for people to get close to her but the idea that there might be people who considered Gildarts Clive to be attractive – or even too attractive to be dated – seemed ridiculous.

“I’ve an engagement under my belt, remember that,” the woman threw in, opening her left eye as she reached over to grab a jacket from her chair. “It may be over now but, you know, it existed. And you know this, Gil.”

It did not surprise Silver to hear this. Not really, at least. According to the calendar on the office wall, she was celebrating her twenty-ninth birthday in a few days and while this made her the youngest member of the team, it made it very unlikely that she had never had a serious relationship in her life. And because she was such a serious person, it was not odd that she had been with something equally serious which was likely why she had been engaged.

It all matched his impression of her and this made him feel rather smug for some reason.

“An engagement to the most boring person in existence,” Dreyar muttered and this was what surprised Silver because while he had automatically assumed that neither his partner nor the medical examiner had approved of the man – their faces had given as much away, _instantly_ – he would have guessed that Clive would make such a comment.

“It was a stable relationship,” she replied, her tone defensive and her posture tense, while she tapped a fast rhythm onto the table beneath her fingers.

“ _Stable_ , yeah,” Clive snorted as he grabbed a file, hiding his facial expression which was likely one of complete and utter disgust.

“You had about as much chemistry as two _inert gases_ ,” Dreyar scoffed and although Silver’s last chemistry lesson had been a while ago, he understood what the man meant; there had been no chemistry in this ‘stable’ relationship which came as an actual surprise for the investigator because he had experienced Ur Lund as a dynamic woman and whether she was acting like Dreyar’s sister or Clive’s babysitter, there was always some sort of chemistry involved. For her to be incapable of reacting – for the lack of a better metaphor – with another person seemed to be rather unusual.

“That’s _mean_ of you, Ivan,” she said as she gave him a fake pout before she coughed, unable to contain her own laughter any longer. She was entertained by this and it was her good right.

“ _Mean_?” Silver huffed as he poured more tea into his cup, a smirk on his face. “You’re a certified genius and out of all the insults you have at your disposal, you go with _mean_?”

“Oh, I was just being considerate towards those who do not have an IQ of more than … one-hundred-fifty,” she said with a sly smirk as she wrapped her jacket around herself and grabbed the plate with her cookies.

“You have such a high IQ?” Clive asked, impressed and confused at the same time.

“No,” she replied as she mentioned towards the medical examiner, “but Ivan does and as I was talking to him in the first place…”

“And no worries, Fullbuster, I am capable of understanding basic language,” Dreyar threw in, a rare grin on his face.

“What’s the story behind your breakup, Bambi?” Silver asked as he crossed his arms, trying to return to the former topic because this was something where he had nothing to hide and it might be funny to see the ice queen squirm a little for a change.

She rolled her eyes before she bit into her cookie, a _fearsome_ expression on her face. “I had reached a point in life where I had to make changes,” she then replied, her voice implying how little she cared about this. “He fell victim to those changes, it was nothing special.”

Even if Dreyar and Clive had not proven that they could snort in synch, Silver would never have believed her, anyway. There had been a reason and she was just not saying it. Not that he cared about this. In the end, it was her life and he did not care why she had decided to break up with someone who had offered to spend his life with her.

“You know what they say,” Clive grinned as he crossed his arms and tried very hard not to get scolded by the woman. “One man’s loss is another man’s treasure. You’ll find someone willed to put up with your less … attractive features, no worries.”

“Says one single to the other,” she scoffed at him and it seemed like she wanted to say more but then decided against it because she was not that cruel. Which was sad, in a way. Silver would have loved to hear more about the skeletons Clive had in his closet.

“I go on dates,” Clive snapped, his palms on the desk and his eyes burning dangerously.

“You mean, _you sleep around_ ,” she replied after a quick glance into Gray’s general direction, making sure that the boy was still asleep. So she was not completely irresponsible although she was obviously not that fond of children.

“Do I hear jealousy?” the self-proclaimed leader of the team asked smugly.

“ _Hardly_ ,” she replied as she rolled her eyes at him, her voice implying how very over this she was. “You aren’t what I’d consider my type, Gil.”

Which, of course, prompted the question what on earth was her type because Silver was certain that he had long figured what was Clive’s type – tall, curvy and brunette – as the man was not even trying to be subtle about that. Dreyar was a mystery but then, he was married and therefore, off the market. This left the sole female as the only open question and although Silver had an idea what her type might be – and it was probably not _boring as hell_ – he would like to know for sure, just to know how he could pick on her a little better.

“No one is your type,” Dreyar replied, rolling his eyes. “You have _impossible_ standards.”

“I simply happen to like being someone’s top priority,” the woman huffed and this was considerably less shallow than a part of Silver had anticipated. After taking _‘boring as hell’_ out of the field of possibly types, he had counted on something along the lines of _‘tall, dark and handsome’_ but in the end, Ur Lund was not predictable and she had higher standards than what everyone else wanted as well.

“By the way,” she continued and something about her became awfully predatory as she smirked at the man, “I got you the number of the young lady you wanted to ask out for a while … did you call her?”

“He hasn’t,” Silver said with a half-grin, switching sides like it meant nothing to him. “He even changed his coffee shop to avoid seeing her.”

Was this fair on his partner? No, it was most certainly not but between Gildarts Clive and Ur Lund, it was more benefitting to him to be on the lady’s good side because at the end of the day, she was the one who made the calls and counted the scores and this was why upsetting her was _dangerous_.

“That’s sad, Gil,” the woman sighed as she traded a calculating glance with Dreyar who was smirking smugly afterwards. “I really put myself out there when I asked her for her number … you should honour my efforts.”

She was playing it dirty and he knew that she was aware of this but she was undoubtedly some kind of spoiled genius girl, perhaps from a rich house and this was why she was so damn used to everything doing exactly what she wanted them to do. Well, Silver was no puppet on Ur Lund’s strings and he would never be, either.

* * *

**he does not quite understand their issues, honestly**

* * *

 

Ivan Dreyar did not see it happen because he had been lazing around on the couch, preoccupied with the novel he had found under the table. Judging from the title and the immaculate state of the book, it was pretty obvious that it belonged to Ur and this was alright by him, she had a habit of borrowing his books and not giving them back until he asked for them and so she was hardly going to complain about it. He spent just as much attention to his surrounding as he had to but even so, he noticed the shift in the atmosphere that followed to the cracking noise.

There were not many breakable objects in this office, mostly because Gildarts Clive was infamous for his ability to destroy about everything he touched, and so it was easy for the medical examiner to deduce that the object that had suffered was nothing less than Ur’s scale model of a building they had not gotten any plans to which had annoyed everyone. Ivan knew how much work it had been to construct it, how many times Ur had sent Clive to the building to make sketches.

(The irony that a woman who could make impressive models could not sketch to save her life was not lost to Ivan, not at all.)

And now, Fullbuster’s brat had ruined what was likely Ur’s most important possession at the moment. Two years back, it would have been no reason to worry. Ur had been great with kids then, had handled them with a mixture of expertise and pure instinct, procuring amazing results whenever she had had to work with a child for the solution of a case. Nowadays, this was different and the profiler avoided children wherever she could – and unlike Clive, Ivan was not enough of a fool to believe that the woman had ever been okay with the presence of the child in this office. There was a small amount of children she could stand like the son of Agent Vastia but this had reasons Ivan did not like to think about because there were things that were simply private – this was one of them.

“…my model,” the woman said quietly and Ivan rose to his feet because this could easily result in a very ugly scene and he was sure as hell not going to be hit by the shock waves of her fury, no matter how quiet and contained it might be.

The little boy looked at her, obviously aware that she was not happy right now and for a moment, Ivan realised that Gray Fullbuster was afraid, _very afraid_ because Ur Lund was a ticking time bomb and it was doubtful that anyone would get out of this unharmed.

 _“Agent Lund,”_ Clive said in a last desperate attempt to get her to snap out of it, whatever it was going to be but it was obvious that it was too late and that the countdown had ended.

“Fullbuster, _control_ your child,” she said quietly as she gathered the remains of her model and stepped around the brat that looked reasonably guilty before she disappeared into the resting room, slamming the door shut behind her.

“…so, who’s going to check up on her in half an hour to see if she imploded?” Clive asked, trying to sound cheerful although he, too, was too worried to be his usual _obnoxious_ self.

“I do not volunteer for this, no chance,” Ivan said drily as he sat back down. He had encountered Ur’s fury a few times, usually when someone had messed up her samples, and he had little interest in repeating this experience. “She’ll calm down on her own – Fullbuster junior is a kid, she can’t hold that against him.”

This was the theory, at least, and he hoped that he was right because they were stuck in this place for at least six more hours and he was sensitive to tension within a room which was one of the reasons why he usually kept to himself and did not leave his safe cellar.

“The doc’s right,” Fullbuster said as he looked at his son and sighed before he ruffled the brat’s hair. “Listen here, Gray,” he said, trying very hard to sound patient and yet strict – something he did not succeed in. “This model was very important to Age— _Miss Lund_ ,” he started as he glimpsed at the door. “It made her … upset that it is broken now, champ. You’ll have to apologise to her for this.”

And although Ivan was not the best with other people, even he could tell that apologising was not on Gray’s to-do list. Not that the medical examiner could actually blame him; it was never easy to acknowledge a mistake.

“…she hates me,” the boy muttered, his face set in a defiant expression. “She really hates me, dad. She looks _scary_.”

“Don’t tell him that there’s no reason to be scared, Fullbuster,” Clive said, biting his lip, and Ivan had to raise an eyebrow because for a change, the redhead was being wise in his counsel. It would be wrong to lie about this because as an agent, Ur was dangerous. It was part of her job to be a dangerous woman and she was good at her job, very good, even.

“So I’m supposed to tell him that he has to apologise to a woman who is capable of snapping his neck like a twig and who has some serious anger issues?” Fullbuster hissed, frustration on his face and for a moment, Ivan felt sorry for him because he had to be overwhelmed right now because this situation was tricky. It was out of question that Gray had to learn to stay away from other people’s possessions, especially when said possessions were fragile and very precious to the owner. On the other hand, it seemed wrong from them to expect a child that was in a foreign place to apologise to someone even adults were wary of.

“Ur doesn’t have anger issues,” Clive threw in, pacing around in the room and Ivan shot him a sharp glare. The newcomer knew already far more than he had to and telling him even more was not just unnecessary, it would also violate the trust the female agent had in their ability to keep something under the wraps. “She is just … _maladjusted_ , wasn’t hugged enough as a child or something.”

Ivan was not sure if he should be impressed that Gildarts Clive knew a word like _maladjusted_ and could use it in the right context or if he should be punching the man for making it even worse with this lie. Not that Ivan had known the woman when she had been a child but he was certain that Ur’s issues did not come from a difficult childhood with lacking hugs or general affection.

“…you are a _horrible_ liar, Clive,” Fullbuster muttered as he pinched the bridge of her nose. “Anyway, Gray, let’s go apologise to children-hating witch … and no, I won’t talk for you.”

“She doesn’t hate kids,” Ivan stated drily before Clive stepped onto his foot, trying to keep him from saying more although it was nothing but the truth, Ur liked children. Liked, had liked – _whatever_. One might even say that she loved them and that no one hated her current inability to interact with them more than she did.

The both Fullbusters disappeared and Clive sat back down, a broad smile on his face – a smile Ivan would like to wipe away with his fist. “I hadn’t considered confrontation with the issue as a possible therapy for her,” he said in a casual manner and Ivan suppressed a groan because it was nearly impossible that the man was really that _dense_.

“Do I have to remind you what happened the last time Ur was suddenly faced with a child?” the medical examiner growled as he bent down to collect more _ruins_ of the scale model. “She’ll need a long time to be the old again.”

And he could not deny that he missed the old Ur because she had been better to work with. The incident had left her with her brilliance and her understanding but it had given her a completely new view on the problems he had. He had never considered himself to be ill although he had had panic attacks as well in the past but he knew that he was not quite alright either.

At least he was not too proud to accept help, help that came in the shape of co-workers who held out a hand, who made a genuine attempts to listen to him. Ur on the other hand tried to deny that something was wrong, consequences be damned. And this was making him sad, she was his first real friend (and likely the only one who was sufficiently smart to actually understand him) and it was not easy for him to watch how she denied herself the help she could get if she would start talking about it.

“…this shouldn’t have happened to her,” Clive said and there was this helplessness Ivan had grown too accustomed to along the years.

“Even those with the strongest minds can’t always withstand the pressure,” he replied calmly as he dropped a tiny pillar on the desk. “Or as they say – how the mighty fall.”

* * *

**are there some aces up your sleeve?**

* * *

 

Silver was not sure how he was supposed to feel. Gray had apologised to the woman and she had accepted the apology but there was still a certain tension in the room as she sat by her desk and glued together what Gray had destroyed with a facial expression no one could read. In the meantime, Clive was rummaging around in the room next door and chuckled loudly while Dreyar appeared to be rather done with them all as he sat in his favourite chair, reading one of the many books the woman left lying around all the time, shamelessly abusing her status as the highest-ranking agent among them.

“I guess it’s time for you to get your new uniform, Ur,” Clive grinned as he rested a box on her desk, quickly back stepping afterwards when she looked up and glared. “Please tell me that I got your pattern right, yes?”

And this was one of the little hints that even Gildarts Clive who had been on her side since childhood did not always understand what on earth Ur Lund was doing or thinking.

For a moment, the woman did not react, focusing on gluing a pillar back on, then she lifted her gaze and smiled thinly. “Blue?” she asked as she brushed back a strand of her hair.

“Blue,” Dreyar confirmed, taking a short break from whatever he was reading. “We hope you’ll like it, Ur.”

“You do realise that I’m pretty much capable of buying my own dresses, yes?” she asked with a pout before she opened the box and an actual smile appeared on her lips as she lifted up the blue dress. “But you did a good job on this one.”

Clive grinned as he flopped down on his chair and something about him reminded Silver of a little kid that had gotten a nice present for Christmas. “How about a demonstration of how you look in a dress while Dreyar and I fill in Fullbuster?” he suggested with a broad grin and although she rolled her eyes and muttered threats under her breath, she grabbed the box and disappeared.

“So,” the redhead grinned as he looked at Silver, “there is the annual business dinner of _North Cooperation_ and we are on the guest list. Well, Ur is. One of us gets in as her official escort and the other two as personal assistants.”

“Do I want to know how we get onto the guest list of the most prestigious party of the year?” Silver asked as he tried to think of good reasons why _Bambi_ of all people had connections that allowed them to get close to people who were a little too rich for their wealth to have been achieved with completely legal methods.

“Ur is the last person to ever make use of her personal connections, _usually_ ,” Dreyar said with an uneasy smile, “but in that case, she has to.”

“North Cooperation was founded by Jacques Lund,” Clive threw in as he looked at his fingernails with a shrug, “and yep, the guy is related to her, it’s her grandpa.”

It proved Silver’s first guess – spoiled little genius brat from a good and rich family – but there seemed to be more to it. Everyone knew about North Cooperation. Everyone knew about the tensions behind the perfect façade and he remembered Bambi’s snort when he had remarked on one of the countless lawsuits the Chairman of the Board had filed against the CEO and although he had first assumed it was because she did not care for economy, he realised that this was probably what she had grown up with.

“Save the gossip for later,” the grumpy profiler muttered as she stepped into the room, looking both attractive and ridiculous. The dress was, although Silver was hardly an expert, flattering for her because it did not dwarf her. It lacked sleeves and had an asymmetric cut which was good because it showed a generous amount of skin but it did not look _trashy_. The ridiculous part of the outfit came from her choice of footwear, a pair of sneakers.

“You look beautiful,” Clive said as he reached for her hand, twirling her around like a doll, and Silver found himself agreeing, silently. Not that he would ever admit as much. It was one thing to come up with stupid lines that made her roll her eyes and call him a moron. It was a completely different thing to call someone beautiful – which was, as he mused, the reason why all women threw fits when someone called them hot or cute but never beautiful. The reason why Clive was getting away with the comment was that he was in the game for half an eternity and it was probably expected from him to tell her something nice when she was showing up in a new outfit.

“Roxanne recommended the store,” Dreyar said in an offhanded manner as he returned to his book, a smirk on his lip. “And Clive insisted on blue, said it had been a while for you to wear it.”

She rolled her eyes as she ruffled her own hair with a faint smile into the general direction of Clive and Dreyar. “Your wife gave you sound advice, Ivan,” she said before she rummaged around in her bag, looking for her wallet. “Now, Gil, how much do I owe you?”

She looked better in blue than she did in red, at least in Silver’s humble opinion. In red she looked like she had taken a bath in blood, in blue she looked like she had wrapped herself into the sky of a winter’s night and this was far more flattering for her because it made her look softer, in a way.

“C’mon, Ur,” Clive said as he rolled his eyes before he grabbed her second hand, twirling her around once again. “Consider it a very early birthday present or something like that.”

She sighed deeply as she stepped backwards, falling into the stride before he followed suit and they fell into a weird dancelike pattern. Back and forth, never resting, never hesitating. There was experiences in this, like it was engraved into their muscle memory. “I certainly hate you for this,” she huffed before she stopped on her tracks.

“You don’t,” he replied with the certainty of a man who had been told those words a few times and who had always known that it was not quite true. She might hate him now, perhaps for buying a dress too expensive, maybe for guessing her size a little too well – but even if she was completely serious about it, it would not last. It would never last. Silver deemed Ur Lund entirely incapable of hating Gildarts Clive – or anyone else. She seemed to be too well-adjusted to truly hate someone.

“Just when you step onto my feet,” she agreed as she continued to move and they circled through the office in well-practiced movements. “If you ever decide to give the coffee girl – Cornelia, I probably should get used to that name – a call, don’t take her dancing for your first date. She’d never call you back after that, believe me.”

“Roxy called me back although I spilled wine all over her dress because I was too nervous,” Dreyar threw in and instantly, he had Bambi’s full attention; she let go of Clive and moved through the room before she sat down next to him, casually flinging one arm over his shoulders. She was a generally affectionate person when she was feeling like it so this was nothing completely new.

“Roxanne sounds like a wonderful woman,” she said as she smoothed a wrinkle out of his jacket with experienced ease and casualness. “Tell her that I really would love to meet her. I mean, you and I worked together for so long and I still don’t know your wife – or your son for that matter,” she added, her enthusiasm dying.

“The next time Laxus is with my father, Roxy and I’ll gladly invite you over,” Dreyar said and there was a vibe of understanding in his speech that Silver simply did not get. Why was it so important that the brat was away from home when Ur came over? Why was everyone so damn focused on keeping her away from children all the time? Hell, Clive had willingly taken it upon himself to interrogate a little boy a few weeks back although everyone had advised that it might be easier for the kid to open up to a woman so this had made little sense.

“I will be looking forward to this,” she said as she rose back to her feet, her hand covering her mouth as an expression of embarrassment crossed her face. “I just went all mom on you again, didn’t I? I’m so sorry, Ivan.”

“Do I have to make my usual comment on how ironic it is that you always go mom on Ivan, Ur?” Silver’s partner asked but his usual glee was missing from his eyes as he spoke. “Because you see, Fullbuster, Ur is a poor little girl who grew up without a mother.”

“Don’t bring this up, all the time,” the woman said as she wrapped her arms around herself, nearly as if she was freezing.

“Really, Clive, that was unnecessary,” Dreyar scolded, his voice soft but sharp. The medical examiner was no man for the great show, that was the profiler who yelled and destroyed when she was upset enough.

“I just think that as a team, we should be open about those things,” the redhead said with a shrug and an apologetic smile into the woman’s general direction. “And it’s true, isn’t it? You were raised by an army of nannies and governesses and stuff like that, correct, Lund?”

The woman was unusually pale as she gave a little nod. “Yes,” she confirmed before she pressed her lips together into a thin line. “You forgot that I was shipped of to boarding school for three years when I turned six, though,” she added with a smile appeared nearly pained. “But look, that’s all part of the past. I survived it, I became a decent person. I’m good.”

 _Maladjusted_ , Silver caught himself thinking. This was the word Clive had used earlier, after the woman’s silent outburst to explain her behaviour and then, he would have guessed that it had been a convenient lie for the other field agent, a good excuse for his friend’s behaviour that was definitively not correct anymore.

With the superficial description of her childhood added to his information, Silver mused whether or not it could be true, that she had really not been hugged enough as a child. He had grown up in an orphanage, he had been used to not receiving the affection he had, as a child, craved so desperately. But he had always known that his parents had had no choice in the matter because they had been killed in a horrible car accident when he had been just a toddler. Ur’s parents – or at least her father, given that her mother was dead – had chosen not to want her and this had to sting.

“Huh,” Dreyar said as he nervously looked around in the room, “I always forget about the boarding school, too. So don’t blame Clive.”

“I blame no one,” she replied as she turned towards the door, “I should get out of this dress now, seriously, before I ruin it already.”

“The banquet is three days after your birthday, right?” Clive asked as he raised an eyebrow, “so we have more than enough time to clear up the details, correct?”

“Yes,” she said as she frowned deeply, “and someone please tell me to talk to Chres the next time he asks me out, I keep avoiding ugliness and it’s not fair on him … at all.”

“Isn’t he your on-off-date?” Dreyar asked as he frowned deeply. “Like, you go out a few times in a row but you never go official?”

“Yes,” she said as she grimaced and sighed. “It is difficult to explain but I’ll do it … another time, one when I feel like I can explain it properly.”

* * *

**fear is the heart of love – or so they say**

* * *

 

Ur had noticed how the room had gotten more and more silent and she had welcomed it. Ivan had passed out on their red couch while Gildarts and Fullbuster had made it to the resting room and she had embraced the silence of the night by finishing up the repair on her scale model before she had continued her work by looking over the stack of reports the both other agents on her team had built up over the week before she had put everything into the folders and had labelled it correctly so that once the intern postman arrived, it could be passed on to the departments where the reports belonged. As it was a very calm night, it was also a very productive night for her. It was barely three in the morning when she rose from her chair and strolled through the room, rolling her shoulders and stretching – the cracking noises of her back were very satisfying – as she switched on the light in the little kitchen of their office.

(Having an own kitchen was as much of a plus as having an own car, in her opinion.)

Humming a merry tune under her breath, she looked over her shoulder – good, they were both still asleep – before she reached under the table and got a hold on the key she had taped to the underside of the table mere days after they had become a team. The key was the one she needed to unlock the little safe in the cupboard and this safe was the only secure place she had found for her personal stash of crackers. She was not sure if it had been Gildarts who had eaten them all the time when she had still kept them in the top drawer of her desk or if it had been Fullbuster but now, it was a thing of the past that she had to buy them again and again without ever getting to eat them.

Locking the safe again and placing the key in its hiding place again, she switched on the coffeemaker before she leaned against the counter, eating the first cracker as she waited for the coffee to be ready. She had planned out the rest of the night; eating crackers, drinking coffee, maybe listening to some music and hoping that she did not get caught with her crackers.

But this was not her night although it was calm and peaceful because just as she turned around to get a cup from the board, she heard steps on the carpet and as she turned back, she was faced with the little boy who had shattered her precious scale model mere hours before.

“You should sleep,” she said as she took another bite from her crackers. “It’s pretty early and sleep is important.”

“I can’t sleep,” he argued as he nervously stared at the floor. “Dad and the other guy are _snoring_.”

Yes, this seemed true enough. Ur had long gotten used to the noise the both men made when they were asleep and this was good because at first, she had flown the office whenever their _symphony_ had started and this had gained her quite a few stares from co-workers who had come across of her sitting on the stairs. But just because she no longer heard it did not mean that the boy had the same filter.

“Yeah, they do that a lot,” she nodded as she opened the refrigerator and looked at the contents before she found something appropriate for a child. It was behind her, anyway, why on earth they had beer in a fridge that stood in an _office_ and she made the mental note to have a _nice_ chat with the rest of her team about this. “Do you want milk or something?”

She needed to relax and get rid of her paranoia and she knew it because there was not way out of this that would let her keep her dignity. She had to act normal, she could not afford behaving like a headless chicken just because she had to deal with a child. She had to remember that once upon a time, she had actually been good with children and if she could tap into that old personality, she might actually be okay and would not have to storm to the next restroom to scrub her hands until they were raw and nearly bleeding from the cruel treatment she put them under.

“…you really are bad with kids, are you?” the little brat sighed as he threw up his arms. “But yes, I’d like a glass of milk, Miss Lund.”

A part of her made a mental note to strangle Fullbuster the moment she got the change because she was _Agent_ Lund and this was a part of her identity she did not like to be without and he had not had the right to take it away from her without asking her first. She had been Agent Lund since she had joined NAHA and this had been nearly nine years ago. She had been, by consequence, gotten very used to being Agent Ur Lund and it had mattered little whether she had been an agent of NAHA or one of ECID. She had been a professional fighter for justice and peace – and she had been happy that way, very happy.

“Believe it or not,” she said as she took a bite from her cracker while she searched for a glass in the sideboard, “I used to be really good in dealing with kids like you. Actually, I was the best at it – out of all the agents here.”

“Well, if you’re the best, the others got to be really bad,” he muttered under his breath and she rolled her eyes at his minor tantrum. “But thanks for the milk, Miss Lund.”

“…could you maybe cut out the ‘Miss’?” she asked after a moment of hesitation as she poured coffee into her cup with steady hands. “I’m not really fond of being called that.”

“ _Aunty_?” he suggested, his eyes full of youthful innocence and for a moment, she caught herself musing if she had ever had a similar expression. She doubted it, however. For some reason, the little boy had been sheltered from the ugly sides of life and so he was still a wide-eyed little boy who considered the world as a friendly and good place. When she had been his age, she had already been frozen. “Nah, you have no ‘aunty’ vibe, I think.”

“Not sure if I want to know what an ‘aunty’ vibe is,” she said hesitantly as she willed her left hand to stop shaking. This night was taking a sharp turn for the worse but she could not afford to slip up. If she would, she would have to deal with a kid and a _problem_ caused by her own mind, the mind that was so corrupted that it always thought about the worst possible outcome and that was usually death.

“If you had aunty potential, you would’ve given me crackers,” he said as he crossed his arms, staring up at her. “But no, those crackers are yours and yours alone, I guess. That’s okay.”

“These crackers get stolen a lot around this office,” she huffed as she leaned backwards to get a clear sight on the both sleeping men. “One of them keeps taking them although they are mine and I told them to knock it off.”

“It isn’t daddy,” the kid said in an attempt to appear as helpful. “He doesn’t like crackers.”

For a moment, she was silent before she opened the cupboard and pulled a chair closer, climbing onto it and staring into the semi-darkness of the closet, she located Gildarts’ _not-so-secret_ stash of wasabi peanuts. Ripping the box open with little hesitation, she wolfed them down within mere moments, emptying two cups of coffee straight afterwards with little remorse as she turned the empty box to the cupboard as she suppressed the urge to curse at the pain in her throat and on her tongue.

“Maybe that will teach him a lesson,” she muttered as she looked back at the little boy. “Thanks for the hint … it was time I knew for sure who was stealing them.”

This did not mean that she suddenly liked the kid but he had proven to be helpful in her small war against her teammates. The fate of her crackers had annoyed her countless times and finally, she had celebrated a first victory in this war.

And then, her night took an even sharper turn downhill when another agent stepped into the little kitchen, just when Gray finally decided that sitting down might be easier for him because on the table was the bowl with the fresh fruits Ivan brought whenever he had a nightshift while the rest of his team was on nightly duty as well.

It was not even like Ur disliked Chres Vastia. It would be ridiculous of her to claim so, they had dated back when she had been still a part of NAHA and they had been going on dates after she had chosen a safe job from behind a desk over the more interesting jobs on the field. He was a great agent, a rank above her and the rumoured expert for undercover assignments. And he had a very adorable son whom Ur adored in spite of her general problems with children.

“Night, Ur,” he greeted casually as he leaned against the doorframe, a sunny expression on his face as he looked at her. He was one of the people she could not stand this late at night; he was always so _cheery_. “Impressive stack of folders on your desk, saw it when I came in.”

The smile she directed at him was just a socially acceptable form of baring her teeth at him and it held no warmth whatsoever because she was too tired to deal with him or anyone else now. “And so you came in?” she asked as she nearly poured coffee over her hand.

“We are friends, Ice Queen,” he shrugged as he took a sip from his own coffee, “and I was wondering how you were doing. Didn’t see you down at **_T &E_** lately, probably because you’re working with Clive again.”

“I’m doing well,” she said as she bit into her cracker with more force than necessary, shattering it in progress. “Really, no reason whatsoever to complain. How about you?”

“Great, too,” he said as he smiled at her with an expression that made her wonder when he would finally get to the point of his visit and leave her alone again. “Listen, your birthday is coming up if I remember correctly … and I was wondering if you’d like to watch a movie.”

So this was the plan. She found herself less surprised than she should feel but then, it was not the first time this had happened. They had gone out a few times, after all, and so it was just natural that he was asking her out once again. Chres was a widower so it would hurt no one if she said yes – aside from herself. He was a good person and someone she could have – under different circumstances – been able to be in love with but at the current state of things, she doubted that she was capable of being ‘in love’ with anyone. And she loved him. She loved him far too much to allow herself to hurt him – or even worse, to hurt herself by hurting him. This was not what she would ever be capable of.

“I’m sorry,” she said awkwardly as she fished a piece of cracker out of her coffee before she emptied yet another cup, “but I already made plans … and I don’t think we should go out again. I’m on the field again, Chres. This is a very generous second chance Director Babasama offered me there … and I don’t want to risk it. I’m sorry.”

This was a lie and it was not even a good one but it was good enough to make him fall for it and she did not really feel guilty about it. The main issue was that she saw no future in this on-off-disaster called a relationship and she was turning twenty-nine and she was on the road to recover from the traumatising experiences of the past years – she wanted a relationship with a future and she did not want to feel selfish for wanting this. Ivan had muttered under his breath that she was probably hearing how her biological clock was ticking (and he had thought that she had not heard him) and Gildarts had made a similar remark and maybe, they were right. Or maybe she was just done lying to herself and hiding behind a man who had always understood why she was that much of a problem case, who had never imposed on her when she had nodded one of her breaks. And this was why he deserved better. They both did. She deserved someone who did not always listen to her when she was sulking around and he deserved someone who was able to play with his son without having to scrub the hands afterwards.

For a moment, the man seemed to be taken aback before he nodded slightly. “Got it,” he said with a shrug. “It was an offer. If you change your mind – not that I think you will – you know where to find me.”

“I do,” she said as she smiled slightly back at him. “Don’t take it personal, I just try to be the agent I used to be before the incident again.”

“You don’t have to explain it,” he replied as he raised his hand. “Really, Ur, it’s cool by me. This isn’t high school when everything had to be explained – oops, I forgot you didn’t really have that sort of high school experience.”

“True,” she agreed as she reached for the hidden key after putting down her mug. “I guess I can’t help myself, I always feel like I got to explain everything.”

“You should better stop it, though,” he said as he ran a hand through his hair. “For your own good as well as for everyone else’s. Anyway … I’ll take the files down with me on my way out so you don’t have to.”

“Thank you,” she said because she was not quite sure what else she was supposed to say. They went back a long time and in another world, things between them might have worked out better – in a world where he had never nearly died in an explosion, where he had never met his late wife in the hospital. And yet, she was okay with this outcome because it was the logical consequences and although she was not Ivan, she really liked logic.

“Still got your back,” he said as he kissed her forehead. “By the way – Lyon would love for you to stop by again, I am nearly sure that he is still interested in hearing that story.”

And she smiled although he was proving his skill in tearing apart her heart with the skill of a surgeon. “I’ll make sure to finish it the next time I see him,” she promised because Lyon was one of the children who were too serious for their age and cheering him up a little seemed always to be the right way to go.

“See you around, Epsilon Agent,” he said and she rolled her eyes; it was so like him to pull rank when it was completely unnecessary, and then, she stood motionless for a moment as she watched him leave and then, she realised that she could not breathe correctly. This was bad, this was horrible. She took a swaying step backwards, hitting the counter with her hip in a painful way and her hands came up to clasp her throat as the room around her begun to fade away. There was only her and the nameless terror she could not even explain this time.

“Mi-miss Lund?” the little boy asked and a million apologies ran through her mind because he was really the last one who should have become a witness of her in this state.

“Ivan,” she managed to choke out as she sank to her knees, her heart racing within her chest – and for a moment, she remembered when she had thought that she was having a heart attack. By now, she should be able to deal with this on her own but right now, she could hardly think straight and she wondered how she was supposed to control her breathing when all she could think off was the dying girl and the blood on her clothes. The little boy was gone a moment later and she rested her hands against her forehead, trying to breathe slowly and steadily – the way she would during her yoga exercises – but there was no avail, not with the thoughts racing through her head.

“Hey, _hey_ ,” the medical examiner’s voice reached her ears and he took her hands and then, she looked up and all she could see was a face full of worry before he did what he always did to snap her out of her episodes: he hummed one of the few songs she remembered from her early childhood and connected to something positive, with a sense of being safe and protected. It took a few minutes but her heart rate went down slowly and she pressed her cold hand against her forehead as she threw an apologetic smile at Gray who was standing by the door, looking awfully terrified.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she grabbed the glass of water Ivan was handing her. “This wasn’t supposed to happen like this … ever. Oh god, I am sorry, **_so_** sorry…”

“Remember that this is not your fault, Ur,” Ivan said as he helped her up and pushed her to the table, gently forcing her to sit down. “It does not mean that you are weak or something.”

He knew her insecurities too well and once again, she was happy that he was on her side because if he was not, he could break her into a million pieces just by reciting all the thoughts she tried to lock away so desperately.

“Gildarts is okay,” she whispered as she buried her face in her hands. “He is always okay.”

“Because he didn’t take it personal,” the doctor said in his bottomless patience. “C’mon, _mommy dearest_ , time for you to get your mind running. I’ll get the chess set, you’ll keep breathing. Count them, think of something nice – like butterflies or puppies, okay?”

“Did you have to use that name when I am helpless and _defenceless_?” she huffed.

“You’re never helpless, Ur,” he replied and then, he was gone and she felt someone tugging on her sleeve. She looked down at Gray and shook her head. “Not your fault,” she said before she gulped down the cold water, closing her eyes for a moment. “Really, I’m serious. Not your fault that I’m so … _breakable_.”

And then, she just focused on her breathing and hoped that this shift would end soon so that she could get home where she felt completely safe and where she did never have to fear anything.


	5. Chapter 5

_**v.**_  

* * *

**some kind of resolution**

* * *

 

“Ur’s birthday is tomorrow,” Gildarts started as he looked at the both other members of their team. Fullbuster looked tired and slightly disinterested, Dreyar looked like he was going to say something harsh. “So as her team, we should make her birthday a nice experience for her.”

“She hasn’t celebrated her birthday _in years_ ,” Ivan said as he frowned deeply. “I mean, sure, we can try but chances are, she’ll hate it.”

“You were the one who said that whoever cracks her case gets to take her out,” Fullbuster said with half a snort, “and as she cracked it herself, we should take her out.”

Four months ago, Gildarts would have guessed that the newcomer to ECID was just trying to mess with the experienced agent and consultant but these days, he was not too sure about this because there was a small possibility that he was actually serious about it – and Gildarts would want him to be because no matter how unusual the constellation within their team was, they made it work somehow and although she could be a bit of a wildcard, Ur stabilised the team in her own way and as it seemed, she cared enough about them all (and this included Fullbuster) not to quit them because so far, they had all played the game in a very fair way so that she had had no reason to feel betrayed.

In a way, Gildarts had to commend Fullbuster for being smart enough not to flirt with everyone who was sometimes wearing a skirt and strictly focusing his efforts on a certain specialist on their team – at least when she was present. It was nearly ironic how Ur who had so much misfortune with romance had ended up on a team with Dreyar who was happily married and two men who were loved by the women and who loved the women.

It was not like it was their fault and it seemed like Ur did not care either way. The only time she had made a comment on it had been when Gildarts had been late for work and had been wearing yesterday’s shirt. And even then, all she had said was that he should keep his indiscretions a little more to himself because if she could figure it out, so could the pretty barista whom Gildarts still had not asked out, much to his ex-partner’s entertainment and secret glee.

“We could go to her favourite bar after the lecture about sexual harassment,” Dreyar suggested as he rolled his eyes. “Sorry, I don’t want to make it sound like I am not taking it serious.”

“I get your point,” Fullbuster agreed, rolling his eyes as he shuffled around his files. “It’s not like this team has a problem with this, right?”

It was tempting for the team leader to suggest that perhaps, their sole female member might see this differently but then, Ur had never made a complaint and in the past, she had never hesitated to get someone removed from her presence when she had felt harassed in any shape or form so she obviously did not feel like Fullbuster’s stupid comments qualified as actual harassment.

“It’s true,” the medical examiner said in agreement as he started to pace around in the room. “I think I might be able to pull some strings.”

This was no surprise; if there was someone among them who was important enough to find a decent excuse to get out of the lecture, it would be him because he was one of the pillars of the department and so people listened to him.

“So we take her to that bar,” Fullbuster repeated before he tilted his head. “Wait – does she expect presents or something?”

“Nah,” Gildarts replied as he pushed the gift he had messily wrapped into red paper deeper into the drawer of his desk. No, Ur would not expect any presents. Hell, she would not even expect for them to remember her birthday. But he had been her partner for an awfully long time and even beforehand, he had been her friend and so he had felt obligated to buy her something pretty.

“I bought her a new set of pens,” Dreyar threw in with an awkward little smile. “She mentioned needing them and so I got them for her.”

Fullbuster was silent for a few moments before he threw up his hands, a gesture of surrender. “So she doesn’t expect it but you still get something for her because she’s your friend,” he stated and he was right. For any other co-worker, Gildarts would never have gone to town to buy a present but it had been for Ur and she had mentioned that she needed a new scarf as well as gloves and a hat because although it was the middle of summer, she had made plans for going hiking in the mountains in autumn when it was getting cold again.

“Pretty much, yes,” Dreyar said with a shrug, a smirk on his face. “I don’t think she’d mind it if you wouldn’t give her anything, however.”

It was odd but this was indeed one of the very few occasions of Ivan actively making use of his intelligence to manipulate someone because _everyone_ knew that women did not like being forgotten on their birthday, not even when they made a point out of establishing that they did not like getting older on a regular basis. For Ur, the case was slightly different as her birthday had always been the death day of her mother and so she had always been weird about this day, sometimes even skipping work.

“If she’s a teammate and everyone else gets her something, I’ll get her something as well,” Silver said and Gildarts smirked widely.

“Tonight is nightshift,” Ivan threw in as he stretched, grabbing his favourite tea cup. “Clive, you’re out, are you?”

“I have a date,” Gildarts replied, carefully, as he looked up from his own files for a moment before he halted. “Wait – you’re away, too.”

“Roxanne told me that she was filing a complaint to Director Babasama if I would not be at home for my son’s birthday,” the medical examiner said with a smile that seemed happy and completely sincere. “And whatever Roxy demands, she gets. So yes, it’ll be Fullbuster and Ur on their own tonight.”

“That’s gonna be fun,” the black-haired agent said as he rolled his eyes, muttering something about how horrible life had to be that he was stuck with the woman who treated him, in his opinion, like a baby.

* * *

**when i was one half of two**

* * *

 

She was not supposed to act like this when she arrived for her first nightshift without Gildarts or Ivan. She was not nervous. After all, she had gone through the embarrassing five minutes with the department’s psychologist and had once again claimed that she was perfectly fine and that there was no reason for Doctor Heartfilia to worry. Not that Ur actually believed that Layla had stopped worrying or that Ur was off the blonde’s hook now. Layla was still on her case for the little events that lacked a decent explanation and the other woman would not stop until she had found a neat little label for whatever was wrong with Ur. Not that she would ever find out.

“Evening, Fullbuster,” she greeted as she dropped her back on her desk and flopped down on the couch, a sigh escaping her as the phone rung just as she had found her place. “Oh c’mon, you can’t be serious,” she huffed as she got up again.

“Evening, Lund,” the other agent greeted with a smirk on his face ad she decided, there and then, that Silver Fullbuster had to be stopped.

She rolled her eyes as she reached for the phone and then, her spine straightened the moment a familiar voice reached her ear. It was a natural reflex, something she did not control whatsoever. “Good evening, madam,” she said as she nervously scribbled around on her papers. “This is Agent Lund speaking, Era Criminal Investigation Department. What can I do for you?”

“This is Director Babasama,” her superior said, her tone rushed and with an underlining tension. “You and Fullbuster have a job to do – we have a new trace for the case from nearly two years ago … your case, remember? The patrol has arrested a man who matches the descriptions you made – drive downtown and identify him.”

For a moment, she swore she could hear her own heartbeat, resounding in her chest, and the sound of her blood rushing through her ears before she gave an unnecessary nod – her superior could not see her, after all – before she sighed deeply, forcing herself to sound calm and not like she was moments from freaking out. “Understood, ma’am,” she said as she opened the top drawer of her desk. “I’ll be there in ten minutes; tell the officers on the scene not to tell him that I’ll be there shortly.”

She was not terrifying, not really, at least. She would be armed and the man would be wearing handcuffs and yet, her pulse was racing. She knew that this was a situation that might very well trigger an _episode_ and yet, she had to see this through. As far as she was concerned, Gildarts was on a date with the coffee girl – which had only taken him years – and she was not going to ruin his night. She was on duty and so she would go there and do her job because this was what people could expect from her.

“I’ll make sure that your demands are met,” the director said and then, the call was ended.

“Fullbuster,” Ur said as she cracked her knuckles and gritted her teeth to the point that it hurt. “We are going downtown – and I can’t believe I’m saying this but you are driving.”

Against the common misconception, she was not proud enough to risk her life and the lives of others just to cover up that she was not okay. This was why she had given up her gun after the incident, this was why she had chosen a position behind a safe desk rather than one in the field. And this was why she was now handing over her car keys to another person – she trusted her reflexes, she knew that she would probably make it downtown in one piece – and she hoped that she would not come to regret this decision.

“To the downtown police station?” he asked as he caught the keys before he stopped himself because while Gildarts had – after he had finally gotten a car of his own – let Silver drive it, Ur had upheld her strict rules. This was the first time she had offered him the keys to her car and as she was aware of this fact, she decided that it would be the last time, too. “What do we want there? If they have a case, there’s another team for those things.”

Had he been Gildarts, she would have reached out and flicked his forehead but he was the newbie and they did not have yet achieved this degree of familiarity. “I’m a witness,” she said as she clenched her fists in her pockets, trying to appear as relaxed as it was possible with her racing heart. She was not doing well, this was a kind of stress she had never been trained for and although they were not even at the parking lot, it had already started to take a toll on her. She had to get this thing done and over with before everything could go down the drain. “Now, let’s go. I’ll fill you in on the way there.”

“…I actually doubt that I want to know,” he said and for a moment, she found herself nearly grateful because the last time she had had to explain what had happened, it had been to Ivan and he had been there for the original incident and everything what had followed so that she had merely had to jog his memory a little. “So let’s hurry, you said something about ten minutes and I don’t drive the way you do.”

“I took that into account,” she said as she grabbed the cup of coffee – the mug had been a present from Gildarts last Christmas and it read ‘ _Yes, the report has to be written personally’_ – and closed the buttons of her jacket before she left the office, Fullbuster trailing behind. “No worries – this isn’t anything serious, I promise.”

She usually never made any promises when she did not quite know what was really going on but in this case, she doubted that it could be bad enough to be an actual problem and even if it was, she had still the skill to get both of them out of a tricky situation, even with a head that could easily turn on her and render her entirely helpless within mere moments.

“That’s good, I reckon,” he said as he pushed the button of the elevator, “but you brought your gun. You usually don’t do that when all that’s going to happen is consulting.”

She nearly stopped breathing for a moment as her fingertips brushed over the cold steel of her weapon before she sighed deeply. “I really can’t get anything that matters past you, can I?” she muttered as she cracked her bones, one of her habits she had tried to get rid off. “I am … not necessarily stressed out right now, just moderately worried about this.”

He remained silent until they stepped out of the building and onto the road. “You know, it’s not bad to be worried about something,” he said carefully, likely expecting one of her sharp replies. “And it’s not like Clive and Dreyar are around to get on your case for it.”

“Even if they were, they both know better than to get onto my case for anything,” she said as they reached her car, taking the necessary steps to get onto the passenger side which was entirely unusual for her because for as long as she had had a driver’s licence, she had always been the driver unless her ability had been compromised somehow. “Look, Fullbuster, I’ll be perfectly fine. Now, let’s go – and don’t you dare put a scratch into my car.”

Not like the car she liked to call ‘hers’ was really her car. It was just the vehicle the director had given her so that she could get to the locations of crimes without having to use her private car. It was an insurance matter, in her opinion, but it had mattered little to a woman like her, to someone who was very fond of the thrill of high speeds and had always been the one to take the responsibility for everything she had done on a street.

“No worries, Bambi,” he said and although she had told him to knock it off a million times within the past weeks, she did not comment on it, this time. With Gildarts calling her the same nicknames he had used since they had first met – never mind if a suspect was listening to them, she had to rely on other things to ensure that people met her with the respect her position required. One of those ways was to be in charge all the time during an investigation and to never take orders from anyone who was not above her in the chain of command. Gildarts, for once, was not and so she did not necessarily obeyed to what he said – not that he ever tried to order her around, knowing fully well that she knew what she had to do – and he did not fully understand what on earth she was usually doing on a scene.

“Your old superiors noted down in your file that you’re a good driver,” she said as she tapped her fingers against the dashboard, her lips pursed. It was not right to look into another agent’s file without informing the colleague beforehand but after Fullbuster had brought his kid to work and mentioned that he was divorced, she had decided that it was time for her to run a little background check, something she should have done after he had killed the little girl’s father, just to know what sort of person she was dealing with on a daily basis. It had not really surprised her, to be honest, and even the parts that had surprised her had not really shocked her because in a way, it had all made sense to her.

(And she had briefly wondered if her file would make as much sense to other people.)

“So you read my file?” he asked as he steered the car out of the parking lot and onto the street. “I guess that Clive didn’t tell you to … he doesn’t seem to be the type to have you handle the dirty work for him … I’d even think it’s the other way around.”

This was another common misconception among her colleagues, that she was the mastermind and that Gildarts filled the role of her grunt, the one who handled the execution of her plans while she sat back and sipped her tea, waiting for him to report back to her. The truth was vastly different from this imagined reality. There had never been someone between them who was handling solely the dirty work because they had taken turns, always doing what the situation required from them and making decisions based on individual skill and the current circumstances rather than what might be expected from them.

“Gil can’t order me around,” she said as she toyed around with her handbag, trying to keep her mind off the upcoming confrontation. “Although I’d love to see him try someday … it might actually be rather entertaining for me.”

“Oh, make sure to tell me in advance so I can bring a camera – to make the moment immortal,” he smirked and she nearly laughed as he parked the car on the downtown police station’s parking lot. “Especially since I doubt that he would try it a second time.”

“My, Fullbuster, you have some really good ideas hidden in that brain of yours,” she said as she rolled her eyes, clinging to her bag as she headed for the entrance, counting on him to follow her as they were supposed to be a team even with Gildarts having a night off.

“I’m offended by your lack of faith in my abilities,” he said as he smirked down at her. “I mean – I’m a specialist in many different ways, you’d be surprised.”

She rolled her eyes at him before she entered the small police station. She was never quite sure whether he was just messing with her or if he was actually hitting on her so she had grown quite adapt at just ignoring what he was saying.

* * *

**pour me a heavy dose of atmosphere**

* * *

The police station downtown was small and although it was not the first time for Silver to have ended up there, he still mused how on earth people could work in this building without developing claustrophobia. He considered, however, that short people like Agent Lund liked it because they did not appear to be lost within a room for a change.

Talking of the woman, she had marched up to someone who appeared to be in charge and after holding out her badge and signing on a scrap of paper, she had received instructions.

“So,” he said as he followed her through the narrow hallway that led them to the interrogation room, “should I call Clive or something?”

She shook her head, her face expressionless while her eyes were screaming, and he dropped the topic because pushing a woman who had enough problems right now was not just cruel, it was also entirely unnecessary. She was no suspect they had to push over the edge, no one whose resistance they had to break. She was a colleague, one of the team – she deserved to be left alone until she was ready to talk.

“Gil is on a date tonight,” she said and for a moment, he waited for a undertone of jealousy because it would not completely surprise him if she had, once upon a time, been in love with Clive and that this was what made them behave so awkwardly at times – because he knew, maybe even because he had rejected her. If it was the latter, Silver really questioned the man’s intelligence because it was rather reckless to reject a woman who was dangerous and unpredictable even on her best days.

“Right, with coffee girl,” Silver nodded as he sidestepped her to enter the interrogation room before her after unceremoniously ripping the file out of the hands of the agent the woman proceeded to usher out of the room with a dry remark of how this was her case.

“Her name is Cornelia,” she said nonchalantly as she folded her hand behind her back, resting them on the handle of her gun. She was not calm but she was portraying a pretty good imitation of it and someone who did not know her at all would easily have fallen for it. Not Silver, however, because he knew her better than this by now and he was not going to be tricked.

“These are Agents Fullbuster and Lund,” the leaving agent informed the haggard man who was cuffed to the table, a security measure that appeared rather harsh to Silver but there was something weird in the woman’s dark eyes – someone primal, predatory, something absolutely un-Bambi-like and he was suddenly aware that he was going to play the good cop to her bad cop – and this was completely new because usually, she was always the good cop which made sense because people trusted her easily and this was their downfall.

Haggard as the man was, he radiated a vibe that made Silver’s skin crawl and he was rather sure that after all he had seen, it took more than just the usual criminal to make him feel like this. No, something was off, something told him that this was considerably more dangerous than it appeared to be – and that Lund knew as well and that this was why she was behaving so strangely.

“You didn’t have to introduce me, Agent Miller,” she said as she stared at the man who was looking back at her, not even blinking. There was tension between them and Silver was tempted to ask but then, he flipped open the file and raised an eyebrow because the first page was a picture of Ur Lund when her hair had been still long and she had looked healthier, more complete. Beneath it was a picture of her covered in blood and guts and he sighed. So this was the burden she had been carrying, the burden she had refused to let anyone help her with because she was stubborn and desperate in her desire to pretend that she was okay.

“Indeed, Agent Miller,” the man said with a smug smirk as he briefly looked at the leaving man, “Agent Lund and I are old acquaintances.”

Lund snorted as she leaned over the table, a dark expression on her face as she looked at the notes of the other agent. “You changed your name, I see,” she said and her voice was too soft, too calm for Silver’s liking. “Deliora,” she continued as she straightened up again, “I think you have some explaining to do – why did a little girl to die for your plan?”

Silver was happy that his eyes were still trained onto the file because this way, his surprise did not show instantly. Deliora was a terrorist and terrorists were not part of what ECID dealt with. Terrorism was the business of NAHA and maybe another agency so if his colleague had met the man before, it had likely been when she had been still with NAHA.

“Who cares about the brat?” the man asked as he smirked at the woman. “Oh my, the ice queen did care. Sorry about that, then.”

“So this was about the Agents Lund and Clive,” Silver threw in as he reached out, dropping the file onto the table before he forced Ur to let go of her gun. He could understand her sentiment, could understand that she wanted to kill the man – Deliora had signed responsible for many horrible events – but this was an interrogation and so she would have to control herself and her temper because otherwise, the consequences for all of them would be dire.

“Mostly about Lund,” the terrorist said as he turned his head, looking straight at Silver for a change. “The director of her old agency had had the funny idea of having Lund gain my trust.”

An undercover job, one that had likely included to pretend being romantically interested in the man which, in a way, explained the woman’s refusal to do this again these days. She had gotten more careful and this might be connected to whatever had happened the last time she had been assigned to a criminal.

“…I pretended to be a chemist,” the woman threw in as she cracked her bones, pacing around in the room. “Just for the record, I have my standards and they aren’t that low.”

He nearly smirked, it was always entertaining when she got all defensive because it implied that she cared about what other people thought about her and this was slightly different from what most people assumed about her the first time they met ECID’s top profiler, the silent genius who had a ridiculously short attention span, who liked to change her mind a lot.

“So you mean, _Deliora_ ,” Lund continued as she forced herself to breathe steadily, “that the child had to die because it was Agent Clive and I who escorted it home?”

“You got it, dear,” the man replied with a wide grin. “Although, I don’t know that Agent Clive persona … unless he’s that monkey following you around. In any case, I assumed that feeling responsible for the death of that silly little brat would be hard on you … nearly as hard as being in prison was on me.” His grin grew even wider, not that Silver would have considered that to be possible. “And I was right, wasn’t I? You disappeared for a while after that day.”

She became entirely motionless for a few moments before she smiled slowly and Silver had known her for long enough to know that she was about to take a gamble and that he was in to help her pull it off simply by being in the same room as she was right now. “I wouldn’t say I disappeared,” she said nonchalantly. “I took up consulting because I had been injured a few days after the incident. So if you think that you actually managed to win against me, I am sorry to disappoint you.”

No, she was not sorry. She was absolutely merciless in what she was saying, finding her opponent’s weakness – his pride – and hitting right where she anticipated the greatest effect. Of course, there had been no injury aside from the scars the incident had left on her mind but she had always been a pretty good liar in Silver’s opinion and so it was unsurprising that the terrorist was falling for it.

Even Silver himself might have fallen for it if he had not known that out of all the members of their team, she had the least amount of injuries under her belt, something he had first believed to be connected to the lack of field work she was doing before he had realised that it was probably because Clive was the embodiment of recklessness and dragged Silver into his messes while Ur was careful and did not take any risks she could not calculate.

“You are lying,” the terrorist said and for the first time, his façade was crumbling. “You can’t be the same agent I met all those years ago.”

“This is actually true,” she replied as she smiled thinly, “I’m considerably better than I was back then – and now, you tell me where you placed the bomb, Deliora. You lost the game.”

“Did I?” he asked and Silver had a very bad feeling about this, all of a sudden. He would have guessed that no matter how dangerous the terrorist was, he could hardly be a danger when he was already arrested but this was different right now.

“I may have lost the game, yes,” the terrorist said as he leaned back in the chair, “but you, Ice Queen, will lose a friend tonight and your old boss will lose her son. So yes, I lose but I still win.”

Silver did not have to ask if the other agent had understood the hint because the way she went pale and her hands started to tremble told him as much and even if he had not been reading her body language, her hissed curses would have cleared everything up for him and so he waited for her explanation as a feeling of dread grew inside of him because, again, this was no warzone, this was one of the most important cities of the country.

“The last time you asked me if I had seen hell,” she said as she cracked the joints of her fingers, one after the other. “And I told you that I had not seen it yet. Now, I have seen it and I swear to God – I’ll personally ensure that you see it as well.”

“Then I did open your eyes,” the terrorist replied as he laughed darkly, an expression of lunacy on his face. “You learned the lesson, didn’t you, ice queen? You can’t look away from death … and you feel the eyes of the people you killed on you, _no matter where you go.”_

Lund went pale but her eyes narrowed as she reached out, grabbing the man’s collar roughly as she leaned over the table. “You and I, we’ll meet in hell and believe me, you’ll come to rue the day you heard my name,” she hissed as she let go off him, turning away, the eternal storm barely contained in her shape. The last time he had seen her furious, it had been after he had killed Rose’s father and he had been surprised how much fury she could fit into her body. Now, he knew that he had seen nothing yet. “Fullbuster,” she said quietly as she looked at him, heading for the exit as the terrorist’s laughter resounded in both their ears, “call Gil, he needs to help us find Ivan. This is more important than his date. I’ll get my equipment.”

“Ivan?” he asked as he followed her out to the parking lot, unsurprised when she confiscated a key from another agent. “Ivan Dreyar? Our medical examiner?”

“Yes,” she said as she wrapped her arms around herself, a rare gesture of weakness. “Look – go and find him. I am thinking warehouses … something by the river. Not sure though and we are running out of time.”

For a moment, he was tempted to ask her if she was okay but then, he decided against it because it seemed like she was functioning because she had to and that the moment it would be questioned how she managed to remain rational, she would fall apart and they needed her whole right now. 

* * *

**reflections still look the same to me**

* * *

 

Gildarts was enjoying his evening off and congratulated himself for his decision to finally call Cornelia – what a pretty name, really – when his phone rung. For a moment, he was tempted to push the red button but then, he stopped himself and sighed deeply.

His team knew that he was on a date and although Ur had teased him while Fullbuster had made comments that had been too blunt to be counted as innuendo, he knew that it had been their way to give him their blessings for leaving them alone with the entire nightshift. It was not like either of them to call him just to ask him how the date was going and even if one of them would do something like this, it would likely be Ur and not Fullbuster. And yet, it was Fullbuster’s name and his number on the screen and this alone was deeply unsettling for Agent Clive.

“Fullbuster?” he asked as he tapped a nervous rhythm onto the table while his date was looking at him curiously. “What can I do for you?”

 _‘Sorry to interrupt your date, Clive, but we got a bit of a situation here,’_ his partner said and a cold feeling of dread grew in his stomach. _‘I’m not completely in the picture yet but the guy who killed the girl two years ago was Deliora – yeah, wanted terrorist Deliora – and one of his men has Dreyar somewhere with a bomb.’_

“If this is yours and Ur’s idea of a joke,” Gildarts started although he knew that it was real. Deliora had been their last important assignment before they had left NAHA and had started at ECID and they had been so sure that the moment the man had been arrested, it had been over for them – forever, that they could sleep in peace.

Ur did not make jokes about Deliora, not after all he had done, and she reacted highly sensitive when someone else tried to make a joke about a man who could only be called a monster because no matter how brilliant his plans had been, they had been inhuman. His deeds had filled Gildarts with rage years ago and this had been before the man had been lured into a trap that had used Ur out of all people as the bait. No, Gildarts did not think anything about the terrorist was funny.

 _‘Has the ice queen ever made a joke?’_ the other man asked with a huff and in the background, Gildarts heard screeching brakes. _‘No, this is real. She sent me off to look for Ivan and told me to call you; she gets something from the office.’_

“So she decided to take up another challenge of this madman,” Gildarts groaned as he smiled apologetic at Cornelia whom he would have to leave in mere minutes to follow the call of his duties. “Alright, I’ll get some dogs from headquarters, maybe call his wife. We’ll find him.”

 _‘Mind telling me why someone like Deliora picks a fight with Bambi?’_ the gun specialist asked and for a moment, Gildarts was tempted to tell the full story, even the parts Ur herself was not completely aware of but then, he sighed and closed his eyes.

“Not completely sure about this,” he lied smoothly, his voice perfectly even because he had been a spy once and as a spy, he had learned to lie in a million convincing ways. “You might want to ask her about it … once you can talk again after she kicked your ass for calling her Bambi,” he added as an afterthought.

 _‘No worries, I think she secretly likes it,’_ the ex-soldier said cheerfully and Gildarts was tempted to hit him the next time they met. _‘So, I’ll start searching the warehouses now. Anything else I should keep in mind?’_

Gildarts dug his spoon into his dessert and took a bite before he sighed deeply. “Handle her with care,” he said slowly, “because … well, you know why. If she gets an episode, it’s bad. Especially since she is the only expert for explosives in this town.”

 _‘I’ll keep it in mind,’_ the other man said before he stopped, _‘but you know, if someone is getting in our way, I’ll take them down.’_

There was a brief moment in which Agent Clive did consider to remind his partner that they were not exactly allowed to rush into places, guns blazing, but then he remembered that their medical examiner’s life was on the stakes and that Ur might get into the crossfire and for a change, Gildarts wanted to be selfish, wanted to keep everyone he cared for safe and so he could not risk that Fullbuster went easy on someone.

“Do whatever you have to do but get them both out of there alive,” he said as he ended the call, looking at the beautiful woman on the other side of the table. It was fitting for Deliora to reappear on the day when everything seemed to be going right for everyone on the team.

“Duty calls?” Cornelia asked as she raised an eyebrow. “No worries, I don’t mind. You make the world a safer place, after all … is it bad?”

“A ghost from the past,” he muttered before he ruffled his own hair, trying to calm himself down which was difficult because he knew how bad it was looking for them all. If they could not find Dreyar in time, the man would die. If they found him and Ur messed up – which was not _completely_ impossible – she would have to carry an even heavier burden.

“Then you should hurry and get that problem solved,” she said with an understanding smile as she waved at the waiter. “And we’ll wrap this date up another time … when you’re in a better mood. Maybe tomorrow evening?”

He sighed deeply as he shook his head. “I’d love to but it’s the ice queen’s birthday and we said we’d take her to her favourite bar,” he explained as he wondered if it was a good start to put his work and the people he worked with over a potential girlfriend.

“Ice queen … the one who drinks double espressos like it’s nothing?” Cornelia asked as she emptied her glass. “She seemed pretty nice.”

For a moment, he remembered Tara and her angry rant about how she did not trust him, not with someone like Ur in the background and he sighed deeply before he smiled at the brunette. “I’m sure that there will be a day when you two will meet,” he said with a shrug as he counted a bunch of jewel bills before he handed them to the waiter. “I’ll make up for it the next time – but for now, I gotta make sure my team is able to report for duty tomorrow after lunch.”

“If you come by before work, I can give you a bunch of coffee and espresso for free,” Cornelia said as she wrapped her scarf around her neck, smiling uneasily. “Only if you want to, of course.”

“Those guys will make me go bankrupt if I’m not careful as hell,” he replied as he helped her into her jacket before they stepped out of the restaurant. “So the offer is very welcome.”

She laughed as she rummaged around in her handbag, looking for her keys, and he stood there, feeling slightly awkward. “The evening was nice,” she said as she rocked back and forth on her feet. “To be honest, I was getting kinda worried that you wouldn’t call.”

“We had a lot of hard cases lately and a lot of fights among the team, too,” he said as he reached for his own keys, a sigh escaping his lips as he checked his phone again, seeing that he had missed eleven calls from Ur. “Oh dear, it looks like I gotta rush there.”

“Then go,” she said as she unlocked the door of her car with a smile. “And give me a call when you’re back home, yes?”

“Not trying to make you worry but even if Fullbuster and Lund find Dreyar soon, there’s still a lot of work to do,” he sighed as he gave her a little wave and headed over to his own car before he accepted Fullbuster’s next call.

 _‘Agent Marvell found Dreyar,’_ the man said, his voice rushed and with loud noises in the background. _‘They are evacuating the area now – Lund is here now, too.’_

Gildarts felt how his heart missed a beat, then he felt how dread took over once again as he heard Ur’s voice in the background and although he could not say what she was telling another agent, he could make out the stress and the tension in her voice and he found himself praying to gods he had never believed in that they could make it work, that they would not have to bury one out of four before the week was over. This would not be what they deserved, this would be just another cruelty of fate.

“Tell them that Agent Lund is going to be in charge of all decision until the director assigns someone else,” Gildarts found himself saying as he started the engine with trembling fingers. This was a goddamn disaster and he was afraid, afraid that whatever would happen ruin the fragile progress Ur had made, that it would throw her back to a time when she had raged against everything and everyone, refusing to accept what had come, denying everyone the closure they had asked for, they deserved.

 _‘…Bam—Agent Lund made her call already,’_ the other agent replied after a short moment of hesitation. _‘She decided to take matters into her own hands; she prepares to go in there … and I decided that I’d go with her … she looked shaken and if she gets an attack, someone needs to be there with her, correct?’_

The _if_ made Gildarts nearly laugh because to him, there was no reason to speculate about this anymore. Ur would get an _episode_ and it was a minor miracle that this had not happened yet because everything that was needed for the attack was there already.

“She is your superior,” he stated as he drove down a street, a frown on his face. “So listen to her … as long as she makes sense in what she says.”

Which was usually the case, much to Gildarts’ intense appreciation. Out of the many agents he had met and the few he had cooperated with, there was no one quite like her. But even with his eternal faith in his ex-partner, he hurried to get there. It was easy for him to track them down because an operation like this required a great amount of police on the scene and he was no idiot, he knew how to use the technology even Ur left out for her tactics because she felt like it was ruining everything. This was the probably biggest difference between them and it made him laugh. Sometimes. Not today.

Agent Grandine Marvell was standing on the sidelines, talking to a rather pretty blonde who seemed to be highly aggravated. “Clive,” the agent yelled as she spotted him. “Get your lazy ass over here – where have you been so long, anyway? Lund and Fullbuster have been on this five minutes after they heard the news.”

“It was my evening off,” the red-haired man protested as he approached, a frown on her face. “So you found our medical examiner?”

“Yeah,” the woman replied with a nod before she bit her lip, “and I’m telling you that Lund is really not happy with all of this … the warehouse I found him in is right next to the alleyway where the girl died.”

“I certainly hope no one pointed it out to Lund,” Gildarts muttered under his breath before he turned to look at the stranger. “Excuse me, madam, but this is a dangerous situation right now and as a civilian, you might wish to take a few steps back.”

“Agent,” Marvell said as she rested her hand on his arm, “this is Mrs Dreyar, Doctor Dreyar’s wife. She called headquarters to ask whether he had been called in just when Fullbuster reported him as missing.”

Gildarts groaned as he smiled winningly at the blonde, remembering that the few times Ivan had mentioned her, it had been in a fond manner which implied that the medical examiner who usually seemed about as cold as Ur herself cared deeply about his wife. “Madam,” he repeated as he looked over to the building, “the both agents on the scene are specialists.”

“I am not here to supervise your agents, Mr Clive,” she replied sharply as she wrapped her arms around herself, “I am just worried about my husband. I trust the agents, no worries.”

Which was good because Gildarts found himself feeling a certain sensation of dread and worry when he looked at the door behind which three members of his team were walking on a thin line between life and death. “Marvell,” he addressed the white-haired agent who seemed awfully calm, considering the current situation, “perhaps you and Mrs Dreyar want to go behind the cars. I’ll see if I can get Fullbuster onto the phone.”

“Very well, Agent Clive,” the other agent said as she led the medical examiner’s wife away while Gildarts faced the building, dialling his partner’s number for the first time in a while. “Fullbuster,” he said the moment the connection stood, “how’s the situation inside?”

 _‘Lund is making good progress,’_ the other man replied but there was something tense in his voice that was highly unusual for him, just like the way he had used the woman’s last name rather than one of the nicknames he had come up with. _‘She says that our doctor will be safe – **boss**.’_

And the last word gave it away, told Gildarts that something was not okay because under normal circumstances, Silver Fullbuster would rather have used his favourite chocolate cake for target practice than to call Gildarts ‘boss’ in a non-sarcastic manner. There was something inside the building with them and this someone likely had the specialist on gunpoint while the expert for explosives was working on the bomb. It was a dangerous situation for all of them and a shift gaze to the building told Gildarts that it would be impossible to send up a sniper to take down the person who was holding them hostage.

“Fullbuster,” Gildarts said as he forced himself not to turn around to look at Marvell and Mrs Dreyar because this would make things more complicated and orders more difficult to give. “Act normal, okay? Stay calm. Now, is Ur behind or in front of the stranger?”

His partner breathed deeply before he made his answer. _‘Yes, we are behind on reports,’_ he said then and Gildarts was happy that they had a team member capable of adapting to situations quickly. _‘Although I don’t see how this belongs into this conversation.’_

“Oh, you’ll get it soon enough,” he said as he heard a shuffle and hissed comments on how his partner should put his phone onto speaker. “Was that Ur?” Gildarts asked innocently as he knew that Fullbuster had followed the demands. “Anyway, Ur, since you can hear me now … remember that the whole team is scheduled for target practice soon. And no, you won’t get out of this … _Agent_.”

This was all he could do, the only order he could give. If he was taking hostages and had only one gun, he would point it at the person who looked like he could handle this sort of weapon and this would be Fullbuster. In the meantime, letting Ur remain behind meant that she could try a sneak attack and that the expected way of attack would be physical, perhaps based on martial arts.

In theory, Ur should get the command, should understand what on earth Gildarts wanted her to do. In theory, it had been Fullbuster who had been right and she could still hit a mark when she was pushed far enough, when she had no other choice aside from seeing her team die. And in Gildarts’ experience, Ur had never allowed someone to die on her watch when she had had a chance – no matter how small – to do something to actively prevent this.

“Oi, Clive.”

He looked over his shoulder for a brief second as he heard the voice of Agent Redfox, a gruff man who was ruder than Fullbuster, behind him. “What can I do for you, Redfox?” he asked as he looked back at the building, yearning to run into it, guns blazing and shooting at everyone who looked like he was a threat to his people. “And this better be important, I have people in there and I want to see them safe.”

“I got a question about the Ice Queen,” the man started as he leaned against a car, a frown on his face. “Is she okay? She didn’t seem that way to me lately.”

Gildarts was about to reply that no, she was not okay and that it would take a long time before she would be the same again but just as he opened the mouth, a single shot rang out and as it remained silent afterwards – safe for some muffled screams that were not coming from a teammate of his, he smiled thinly at the other man. “No,” he said after a moment, honest for a change. “She hasn’t been okay … but she’ll be.”

* * *

**after all that we've been through**

* * *

 

Ivan had kept his eyes closed throughout the progress.

He was not scared of death, he saw it day for day. He worked with the dead, he spent more time around them than around the living so he had been relaxed. He would have regretted to die – he loved his wife, his son and he cared about his co-workers – but the idea had not terrified him. Looking back, it had probably be unfair of him to care so little when he had heard Ur’s whispers, had heard how she had come close to one of her attacks and he had heard her pained hisses. He had heard Fullbuster’s desperate attempts on keeping her calm, had heard him yelling that she should not do something and finally, he had heard the gunshot which had surprised him a little.

But now, it was over and he allowed himself to open his eyes again. The room was dark and it took him a second to get used to it but then, he spotted Fullbuster kneeling on the floor, hunched over a man, checking for vitals. Right in front of him, barely recognisable in the dark, was Ur who was calmly storing away her equipment while she was pressing her left hand to her leg, her pale skin stained with something dark.

“Nice shot,” Fullbuster said as he leaned into his pocket, handcuffing the man which indicated that he was still alive. “Your leg?”

“I’ll need some stitches,” she replied as she struggled to get up again. “Anyway, we should get out of here.”

“Says the one who can hardly stand, much less walk,” Ivan sighed as he rose and pulled her up with him before he stabilised her. “When did you get hurt, anyway?”

“When Bambi was stupid enough to stab herself,” Fullbuster said, sounding aggravated by this lack of care and consideration for the own health as he grabbed her bag and then her upper arm. “Clive will have my head for this.”

“He won’t,” she replied as she limped out of the dark hall, a row of pained hisses and muttered curses escaping her. “It was my decision.”

And Ivan found himself thinking, not for the first time, that Ur Lund was probably too young for the business she was working in. The truth was, Ivan Dreyar had known Ur Lund before she had known him. It was not easy to be the son of the Director of NAHA and a high-ranking general of the military and although it would have been easier for him to work either for the army or the NAHA, he had decided to work for ECID because neither of his parents had ever been fond of Director Ooba Babasama and he had been living a delayed teenage rebellion.

And although this had been – technically, at least – a thing of the past when he had come across the young agent who had been part of his mother’s security detail, he had decided that it was time to get her away from NAHA and into a profession where her intelligence could be used to its full extend.

This had been almost six years ago and Ivan found himself wondering if this decision had been the right one now that he was looking at the consequences of his actions.

Much like him, she had always been too young for everything but this was part of what they were. He remembered being ridiculously young when he had graduated from high school and later on, from university and he knew that it had been just the same for her.

Only, by now, he was two years older than her and with his thirty-one to her twenty-nine (it was after midnight, after all) and yet, he believed that she was still too young for half the things she had seen. She had never fallen apart because she had been sewn together by threads of platinum and this was good and although he was sure that she was too young to play any of those games, she would have to start or she would drown.

She was young but she had been in the business for nearly nine years and so it was okay and Ivan had watched her changes. He had known her as an agent for NAHA when she had been colder than ice and he had known her when she had been ECID’s best woman.

“C’mon,” Fullbuster said as he leaned down, lifting her up against her protests to carry her outside, “we can’t waste any time here.”

For a moment, she seemed to be wanting to say something to him, likely a sharp remark about how she could handle herself but before she got there, he was speaking again.

“We all know that you saved the day, Bambi,” he said as he briefly looked at Ivan, “and now, let us help you. That’s not weakness.”

And with those words, he nailed it. Ivan knew that Ur was someone who thrived off being in control and that she did not take well to being weak and so she would cling to whatever shred of control she had until she passed out.

Amidst the sea of blue light stood, untouchable as a rock in the ocean, their last team member and although Clive’s face seemed unchanged and nearly uninterested, Ivan had worked long enough with this man to recognised that he was not as unconcerned as he appeared to be. There was this tiny flicker of relief in his eyes when he spotted them all and the corners of the agent’s mouth curled upwards as he told the paramedics get to work.

“Everything okay with you guys?” Agent Marvell asked as she appeared out of nowhere, her voice soft and calming which indicated that she was worrying. “That was _quite_ a scare.”

“Lund got a hole in her leg,” Fullbuster said as he set down the woman, saving the playful comment about her weight that Ivan would have made for another time. “The medics should look after that and then, we all should go home because this was one hell of a night.”

“Ursea Cara Lund,” Clive hissed as he reached them, his eyes burning with rare fury. “What on earth were you thinking?”

“Gildarts, can’t this wait?” she groaned as she moved and had to put weight onto her leg. “This hurts like hell and I’m in no mood to fight with you right now.”

“The first miracle of the twenty-ninth year of your life,” the redhead grinned down at her, “there are situations even you don’t want to fight in.”

“Get me stitched before I strangle you and blame it on the pain,” she huffed as she leaned against him because in the end, there was no way Ur Lund could be mad at Gildarts Clive for longer than a few minutes – even when he was stupid enough to break out her full name.

“Brats,” the director addressed them as she stepped out of the shadows, a rare smile on her face as other agents rushed around, dragging the injured terrorist out of the warehouse. “Good job there. I expect the reports soon … but don’t stress out too much, it has time.”

“Thanks, ma’am,” Ivan muttered before he suffered a minor heart attack. He had been hit upside the head when he had gone to the store, picking up Roxanne’s favourite ice cream and afterwards, he had little time to call her and tell her what had come up that had kept him from delivering the ice cream. And now, Roxanne was standing next to Grandine Marvell.

“The wife?” Ur asked with a smirk on her lips as a medic helped her onto the stretcher. “Tell her I said hi, that will be fun.”

“Happy birthday, by the way, ice queen,” Ivan sighed before he slowly headed over to his wife, mentally bracing himself for the scolding that was inevitably to follow. Roxanne did not worry often, he was the medical examiner, not an agent who counted dramatic car chases to his profession, but sometimes, she was getting angry at him for associating with the wrong type of agent – and he was nearly sure that his team had just made it onto her bad side.

Not that it was their fault.


	6. vi.

**_ vi. _ **

* * *

**and if it's real, well, i don't want to know**

* * *

 

Ur wore heels and a skirt as she appeared for her shift, her report for their superior in the bag under her arm and her steps steady although it hurt where she had stabbed her own leg. She had to stop a few times on her way to her office; some colleagues had remembered her birthday and by the time she stepped through the door, she was holding a bunch of flowers and a few boxes of chocolates in her hands.

 _“No comment,”_ she said as she dropped it off on her desk, sighing deeply. Actually, she felt like her _soul_ was sighing as well.

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Gildarts grinned from his place by the window, turning around before he hugged her, nearly breaking all of her ribs, and all she could do was punch his back until he let go of her. “Well, that hasn’t changed,” he said with a dramatic sigh.

“It takes more than a stressful night to turn me into a marshmallow,” she said as she returned to her desk, staring at the flowers with yet another sigh. “…you wouldn’t happen to have a date tonight you could use some flowers for, would you?”

“…I cancelled on Cornelia for tonight because it’s your birthday,” he said and the hesitation in his voice gave away that he knew the reaction this would get from her and that he was not going to look forward to it.

“You cancelled a date,” she started as she reached for one of the boxes, “because of my birthday. A birthday that is a recurring event. Are you out of your _goddamn_ mind, Gildarts?!”

She was not really sure what made her so furious about this – aside from the obvious. She had been the one to get the woman’s phone number for him and this had been a majorly awkward experience for her because she was not the kind of person to ask others for their phone numbers – the things she did for her best friend – and because it had been difficult to explain that she was not asking for herself but for _‘the tall guy who buys his coffee here, you know, the one who can’t go for five minutes without making a joke’_ and in her opinion, it had been a small miracle that Cornelia had actually given her the number.

“No reason to throw the goddamn chocolates at me!” he yelled as he caught them, putting them onto his own desk. “Dammit, woman, I know that you’re keen on being my best woman but seriously – stop it!”

“You complete moron!” she hissed as she marched back to him, glaring up at him with s much fury as she could muster. “I sometimes really can’t believe that you’re for real!”

“And I can never believe how easy it is to tick you off,” he replied with a shrug. “C’mon, I just told her that it’s a colleague’s birthday and that we were all going out.”

“Tough luck for you, then, because we are not,” she hissed as she took aim and threw a box right at him, huffing in quiet satisfaction when he did not manage to catch it in time. “We talked about this years ago – _we don’t go out._ ”

“We don’t?” Ivan asked as he sat down on the couch as usual – he still did not have his own desk although she had requested one months ago. “I think after last night, we need that. You need that, Ur.”

“Can’t we just pretend that today is not my birthday?” she asked as she ruffled her hair in frustration. She had never celebrated her birthday before Gildarts had found out that the twelfth of June was her birthday and had promptly decided that they were going to celebrate her special day until she died.

“Not happening,” Gildarts said as he sat down, raising an eyebrow. “One out of … nine? This is a horrible score, I recommend target practice.”

“Don’t tell me that you are seriously fighting about this,” Ivan groaned as he looked up from one of the reports he had always with him as they were a brilliant distraction from when the rest of his team was slowly going crazy.

“…did we open up a flower shop?” Fullbuster smirked as he strolled into the office, twelve minutes late but carrying an enormous stack of chocolate. “The guys down from the laboratories seem to know that it’s your birthday today, Bambi,” he added as his grin kept growing – as did her desire to wipe it off his face with her fist which was nothing new for her.

“How do they even know?” she huffed as she sat down, feeling utterly defeated because she had tried to keep it under the wraps for as long as possible.

“Clive made a public announcement,” the newcomer said and although she did not want to believe it for a moment – Gildarts knew how much she hated her birthday, he would not do this to her – it was the redhead’s guilty face that gave it away and that made her want to throw more than just chocolate at him.

 _“I hate you, Gil,”_ she declared as she threw up her hands before she headed over to the kitchen, searching for vases to take care of the flowers. It was not vain of her to say that she was one of the more popular agents, she knew it because people kept telling her, because people kept inviting her to join them in their social events. But the sheer amount of flowers and chocolate she had gotten was surprising, even for her.

“You don’t!” he called out to her, laughter in his voice. “If you really would hate me, you would have killed me and made it look like an accident. But as I am at my best health, you got to love me. You can admit it, Ur.”

“Just how many admirers do you have?” Fullbuster asked from where he was standing by her desk. “That’s about twenty boxes of chocolates and … god knows how many flowers.”

She knew that there were exactly twenty boxes of chocolate on her desk – and on Gildarts’, too, because she had thrown them at him – because whenever Fullbuster said ‘about’, he meant ‘precisely’ or whatever word he would use to express that tell them that something was indeed coming in the same amount he had estimated. She really did not get him.

“Believe it or not, Ur is really popular with the guys here at headquarters,” Gildarts said with an _audible_ smirk she would really could do without. “And now that they know when her birthday is, it had to be expected that they would shower her in presents.”

“I am not,” she protested but it seemed weak in front of the mountain of flowers and chocolate. She really did not understand why people insisted on doing this to her. It was not like she was Layla Heartfilia, the psychologist she had gotten a little too acquainted to in the aftermath of certain incidents. Everyone loved Layla because she was so kind, so caring. Ur did not have the patience to listen to everyone’s problems, she saw little benefit in getting involved in someone else’s heartache.

Layla got involved and this was her good right, just like it was her good right to wear clothes with flower print or peach-coloured lipstick. Ur had no time to even pretend to be the dainty flower, she knew that she had exactly one first impression to leave and when this impression told people that she was dangerous, all the better. Because she was. And there was no reason in pretending that she was a saint when the truth was that she could still hardly sit still because she had a mission.

Layla was the magazine-perfect text book definition of a woman who had had her struggles in life but had ultimately gotten it all right. People called her a dream, said that she left a trail of golden stardust in her wake. Ur was different, for once, she was still trying to get her life on track and even if she spelled something but trouble, she would never be compared to a summer’s day because she was a winter’s night, dark and with underlying danger. And she liked it, she liked it a lot. It made people back off by instinct when she appeared on a scene and it kept them from asking any questions about her private life. People had accepted that she was a hardened ex-NAHA-agent and that she did not answer any question she did not have to answer.

(So no, the sheer amount of flowers did not make any sense to her, at all.)

“You are,” Ivan said and she gave up. She could not win against Ivan, mostly because she never really tried. He was not Gildarts, not Fullbuster – she would feel horribly guilty for even raising her voice at the medical examiner.

“Not that it makes sense,” she said as she reappeared from the kitchen, placing a first bouquet on the table where they sometimes played cards during a long and uneventful night shift. “I mean – my attitude should scare everyone away from me, send them into _hiding_.”

“You enjoy the idea of being scary a lot, don’t you?” Gildarts asked with a sigh before he mentioned towards the flowers. “You’ll take them all home, won’t you? Because we are no flower shop here.”

Just when she was about to give a snappy remark – and she was the best at that, no doubt – someone new entered. Someone who was pretty, maybe a year older than her, blonde and really pissed at Fullbuster – and this alone was already enough to attract Ur’s attention, at least temporary. It was not her fault that it was rare if she managed to maintain interest in a person for a long time, most people were simply boring.

“Good day,” she greeted as she smiled friendly. It was not the woman’s fault that she had showed up on a generally stressful day and Ur had long made a point out of never punishing someone innocent for the mistakes of others.

“Hello,” the woman replied with a faint nod before she directed her focus onto Fullbuster and a dark expression appeared on her otherwise friendly face. “Silver,” she said sharply.

“Mika,” he said as he grabbed a report, trying to appear as extremely busy all of a sudden. “What are you doing here? This is work. We are all trying to, uh, work.”

Even if Ur had been feeling merciful, she would not have been able to suppress the urge to snort because no one would have believed that they were actually trying to do any work. Gildarts was lounging in his chair, last leftovers of his smirk still on his face, Ivan was pouring tea into their cups and half of the office were covered in flowers or presents.

“You didn’t pick up your phone when I called you last night,” the blonde said with a glare and Ur found herself raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, last night was pretty busy – the doc nearly got blown up and then we got taken hostage because the _expert_ was rushing into a potentially dangerous situation without waiting for the backup,” he said and Ur found herself nearly dropping the bouquet she was handling.

 _“Excuse me?!”_ she hissed as she slammed her free hand against the table, frowning. “No one – aside from maybe Gil and who listens to him, anyway? – told you to follow me!”

“Can you children leave your discussion for later?” Ivan sighed as he took a sip from his tea, a sigh leaving his lips. “But yes, I can vouch that last night was probably the worst night to try and call any of us, it was rather … eventful.”

 _God bless Ivan and his uncanny ability to make situations less tense_ , Ur mused as she huffed one last time before she crossed her arms and waited for the usual peace to return to their office because this was what she needed now.

“If you hadn’t gotten taken in the first place,” Fullbuster started but then, he was interrupted.

“I actually don’t care,” the blonde said as she crossed her arms and pinched the bridge of her nose – the office’s main gesture seemed to be highly catching, Ur decided – before she started to pace around in the office. “The thing is – you promised Gray that you’d come and watch him play.”

“Yeah – I might have … but his team loses all the time anyway … plus we had a lead?” Fullbuster said and this time, even Ivan was looking at him in a _scandalised_ manner while Gildarts looked like he wanted to knock himself out – not that Ur could blame either of them.

“C’mon, Fullbuster,” Gildarts said as he sighed deeply. “I remember that both Dreyar _and_ the Ice Queen offered that they’d run the computer research for you. Hell, I told you to go home.”

“Are you the boss around here?” the woman – obviously Fullbuster’s ex-wife – asked.

“He is not,” Ivan said before Gildarts could claim the honour for himself. “I mean, sure, he is the team leader. But Agent Lund outranks him – Lund is the lady with the flowers.”

“…he’s right,” the redhead sighed.

“But I do almost no boss stuff,” Ur said as she lifted her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Still – Gil, go and fetch me the files on the case we were working on a few weeks back.”

Although she did not exactly know what was happening, she knew for sure that Gildarts was not helping matters and so she had to get rid of him to move along things smoothly.

“Why can’t you get them yourself?” he protested. “It’s just down in consulting.”

“I know,” she said with a fierce glare, “and remember who works right next to consulting? Yes, you do. _Now, shush._ ”

“One day, I’ll give you a talk on how to break up with someone in a manner that makes them think that they are better off without you,” he sighed before he disappeared and she kept glaring at his back until he was completely gone from her sight before she returned to her flowers with a smug expression on her face.

“Now, Silver,” the woman – Fullbuster had called her by her name, had he not? Oh right, Mika – continued, her voice sharp as shattered glass. “You also promised him that you’d let him stay at your house. Gray misses you. Do you even realise that? Or is it like usual? That you just don’t care?”

“I took him with me to work when you were sick,” Fullbuster said and Ur did not have to be a genius to realise that this was hardly what the poor woman wanted to hear. “That was a _great_ father-son-bonding-activity. Or would you have preferred it if I had brought him with me to the war? I mean, he’s safe here. It’s no big deal at all. It looks like no matter how I handle it, you disapprove. He was safe here in the headquarters. We got a bunch of agents running around here.”

“And doctors,” Ivan threw in and for a brief second, Ur considered strangling him because he just had to go and play on the inside joke. “You are forgetting the doctors, _agent_.”

“Oh right,” the black-haired agent said with a grin, “we got real doctors here. And, oi Lund, what did you study before you decided to become an agent?”

Ur raised her eyebrow slightly. It was rare for people to remember that she had had finished her studies at a prestigious Fiorean university before she had become an agent – and out of all the people who could have remembered, she would never have thought that it would be Fullbuster. Sighing, she decided to humour him. “ _Architecture_ ,” she said as she uncrossed her arms.

“Look, we even have an architect,” Fullbuster said although his facial expression said ‘what sort of architect becomes a law enforcement officer?’ as he looked back at his ex-wife. “See? Architects and _doctors_!”

Only that Ivan had not had a living patient since the day he had stitched up Gildarts’ wound after the moron had gotten himself shot. Ur felt her soul sigh, not for the first time that day.

“Doctor Dreyar,” Mika – Ur was unsure what last name the woman currently used – started as she turned around to look at Ivan. “What field to you specialise in?”

“Told you so, right from the start,” Ur muttered under her breath.

“He helps the people even your precious surgeons can’t help,” Fullbuster declared and Ur nearly complimented him on his wit. It was true; Ivan was a valuable asset in the fight of bringing justice to those who had been wronged in the worst way possible.

“He is our medical examiner,” Ur said drily, clearing up any mysteries. “Likely the best in whole Fiore … and probably the most important member of our team.” 

* * *

**oh i know what you're thinking**

* * *

 

It was rare for Ur to be nice for no good reason, Ivan would know. He had known her all along, he had known her when she had been the hyper focused member of his mother’s special task force, he had known her as an agent of ECID – back in the day when she had still pulled pranks on other agents – and he had known her when she had been a consulting agent, one of those who were not quite lab rats yet but on a good way to become that refined that they were solely people of the mind.

(That was when he had gone behind her back and had recommend Director Babasama to put Agent Lund back into the field as quick as possible.)

(And the director had followed his advice; she had always believed that the best way for her to handle her both certified geniuses was to let them handle each other.)

So it was odd for Ur to simply compliment Ivan – especially since she was getting nothing out of it. She was not quite like his mother – the generally feared director of NAHA, Porlyusica Edel – but one day, she might become just like the older lady. Ur had always been one of the sharp-tongued variant and this was something Ivan had always appreciated about her. He just would prefer it if she would soften a little again, if she would stop being the ice queen because by now, the nickname had gained a sharper edge it had never supposed to have.

“You’re friendly today, Lund,” Ivan said quietly as he looked at her, a frown on his face. “So you’re okay with getting older, after all?”

“We don’t talk about this,” she said, a little grumpy, as she ripped open the first of the countless boxes of chocolate she had received and threw a handful chocolate into her mouth.

And she reminded him of the one she had been, once. Of the bright-eyed agent who had spent countless hours in the morgue, genuinely interested in what he was doing, who had tried to understand everything, who had been like a sponge, soaking up all the knowledge he had had to offer. She had not been perfect, then, but she had been healthier, she had been whole. She had been silent back in those days as well but it had been because she had been focusing on the truly important things. These days, she was silent because she was not certain if anyone would ever listen to her, would ever care.

She had been likened to a china doll by too many people for Ivan to be oblivious to this comparison but he had never seen it because she had always been like glass or perhaps ice to him. He had always seen right through her and this was why he had had chosen the – as he still believed – right moment to push her back onto the field, back into the world she belonged to.

 _Ice queen._ He doubted that anyone remembered who had been the first to call her this but he knew that everyone had just gone with it because it had suited her.

“So when will we talk about it?” he asked as Fullbuster and his ex-wife kept fighting over their son (and Ivan found himself siding with Mika probably-no-longer-Fullbuster. It was one of the eternal problems Ivan had with his job that he was the only medical examiner and that he was called in frequently which tampered with the time he could spend with his family. Turning off his phone had not helped at all, an especially bold agent had appeared on his front door and so he had had little choice but to work. He did not like it, when he was off work, he wanted to spend his time with his wife and his son, and so he had put down his foot, demanding a better schedule from his superior and when he had joined the team, it had been on _his_ conditions – and one of them had been that he would not be called in unless it was an emergency by the standards of Ur.

The truth was, Ivan did not understand why someone would get married and have a child without being willed to spend time with the family. He had actually fought with Roxanne about dropping off Laxus at his father’s place for a weekend away for two once because the few times he had a complete weekend off, he would like to spend it with his family.

“When you’re ready to hear the truth,” Ur replied as she stepped into the kitchen, away from the fighting ex-couple, an unreadable expression on her face. “Do you want to have some of those flowers for your wife?”

Ivan raised an eyebrow. It seemed that although she had already left a trace of colour all over the office, Ur was still drowning in flowers and he was secretly happy that he had decided against getting her some as well. It was not exactly common knowledge that she loved flowers but it was obviously a widespread idea that no woman complained about flowers.

“I think I should take some off your hands,” he said as he mentioned towards a bouquet that was slightly smaller. “She’ll like that one.”

“Great,” the ice queen said as she handed him the bouquet before she checked her wristwatch. “I can’t believe that’s already lunchtime. You, go and have a nice surprise lunch with your wife. I’ll stay here, taking calls and stuff.”

He had to remind himself that he was not Clive and that it was not his place to tease her about her relationship status but sometimes, it was very tempting. Like now. “You know,” he said as he leaned against the kitchen counter, trying not to sneeze because of the flowers, “for someone with a horrible track record when it comes to relationships, you give really good advice.”

“The idea might be foreign to you and Gil but I’m single by choice,” she replied with one of her trademark huffs. “I mean – I’m pretty sure that I could get a date whenever I wanted.”

“Friendly reminder that you broke up with your backup plan,” Clive said as he dropped a stack of folders in front of him. “Talking of Chres, he was utterly unsurprised to see me.”

“This is not the moment for you to give me a lecture on how to properly turn someone down,” she said as she glared at him and Ivan smirked because there was little as entertaining for him as the moments when the supposedly best team – in which world, exactly? – of the headquarters were having one of their fights. Usually, it was Ur who scolded Clive over his many shortcomings but every once in a while, the tables were turned and the man took swift revenge – not that he had many things to tease Ur about as most sensitive topics were off limit, for example, Ur’s panic attacks which she insisted on calling _episodes_.

Her refusal to call the problem by its name was what worried Ivan most about the situation. He was no expert but he had – again, behind her back – asked Doctor Heartfilia about it and she had agreed with his suspicion. Not that it would change a thing, Ur would refuse to talk with the blonde doctor about it for the rest of eternity so all Ivan had been able to do was to gather as much expertise about the sensitive topic as possible without appearing _too_ informed.

“…what do we have here?” Fullbuster asked as he appeared in the doorframe, a frown on his face. “Life advise for the birthday girl? Seriously, didn’t you learn how to break up with people when you were in high school?”

“I did not date in high school,” Ur replied as she switched on the coffeemaker with more force than necessary. “So I never went through any breakups – for future reference.”

“You did not date in high school?” he asked as he towered over her, his frown ever growing.

“Nope,” she said as she reached over his shoulder, getting a hold on her favourite cup, the one that said ‘Starting a mermaid club, applications here’. “I did not go on even one date.”

“Not even a single date?”

If Ivan had been a better person, he would not have taken this much amusement in Fullbuster’s inability to accept and comprehend this fact. If Ivan had been a better person, he would probably have told the other man why Ur had not dated at all for the longest time of her life because Ivan had long cracked that riddle – not that it had been _that_ hard.

Clive laughed darkly as he sat down on the table, reaching behind him to grab an apple. “Ur was a baby when she graduated from high school,” he said as he sighed deeply. “She’s, what, three years my junior?”

“Three _and a half_ ,” she corrected absentmindedly as she frowned at the report he had gotten for her. “And I wasn’t a baby. I was _fourteen_.”

“So yeah,” the man continued, unimpressed by her correction, “she was a fourteen year old senior. No fourteen year old asks out a senior and no senior asks out a _toddler_.”

“And it didn’t get better in university,” Ur said with yet another huff. “I started dating after I graduated from university … when I was eighteen and my emotional maturity was actually existent … not that I had many boyfriends.”

Clive coughed and it sounded suspiciously like laughter – a feeling Ivan could relate to. While Ur was currently very popular with her male co-workers – she was young, single and could handle herself, that made her attractive for many – she had had something like a _fan club_ when she had been still with NAHA.

“And you never learned how to break up properly?” Fullbuster seemed to struggle at believing it and although Clive looked smug, Ivan had to roll his eyes at both of them because it was doubtful that the redhead would believe it if he had not been there all along the way.

“It was never _necessary_ ,” she said as she shrugged, pouring coffee into the mug. “One got killed in the line of duty, another one got nearly blown up and met his wife-to-be in the hospital. So I got out of that business without any trouble.”

Everyone seemed to be taken aback for a moment and this included Ivan, for a change. Usually, it was hard for Ur to throw him off but there were moments when she succeeded in doing so, seemingly without even trying.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said as she rolled her eyes. “I say nothing about your dating habits, seriously.”

“Well, we aren’t innocent little unicorns, Bambi,” Fullbuster said after a moment of awkward silence as he ran a hand through his hair. “And we never pretended to be, either.”

She glared at him after she nearly spilled her coffee over his shoes. “I never claimed to be all that innocent,” she said as she took a sip from her drink. “Anyway, I’ll go work on that file. You can procrastinate for all I care.”

“…on a scale from one to Zinnia Incident – how pissed is she?” Clive asked after she had left the room and Ivan raised an eyebrow. He remembered the Zinnia Incident well – it had been when Ur and Clive had been still partners when the man had gotten shot and nearly killed because of his own recklessness – and he would never forget Ur’s reaction to the infamous event because he had been the one to find her after he had gotten the call from the hospital that the woman’s partner was out of danger. She had been in the shooting range and she had taken it apart because she had been furious, both with her partner and with herself.

“Nothing can top Zinnia,” the medical examiner said as he shuddered slightly. “And that’s probably good – I never want to see her like that ever again in my life, _understood_?”

“Yeah – ‘cause then I’d be probably dead,” Clive said as he focused his attention on his new partner. Ivan knew that it was likely wrong of him to still consider Ur to be the redhead’s partner because they had been apart for a very long time now and they would probably never get back together – which was perhaps better.

“Wouldn’t let you die, though, Gildarts,” the woman in question called from the office, “and no, I’m not even mad right now.”

“Thank you, _darling_ ,” the man replied as he rolled his eyes. “I’d say that you’re the best but I got a feeling that you know this already.”

“Of course I do, _sweetie_ ,” she replied and it did not take Ivan’s genius to realise that they were messing with each other, something they liked to do at times. The first time it had happened, he had been confused – as far as he had been informed, Clive had been dating someone called Maureen and yet, he had ‘ _proposed’_ to his partner – but as time had passed, he had realised that calling each other _‘love of my life’_ was just another example for their unique humour.

(A humour could probably not understand until they had spent years in their company.)

“So, Fullbuster,” Clive started with a predatory expression on his face, “who was that pretty blond lady earlier? She seemed rather smart for a blonde, too.”

From the office, Ivan heard a weird noise that sounded like Ur was forcing herself not to say something, likely something that would criticise her ex-partner’s stereotyped thinking.

“Huh, I used to think that she was red-haired when we met,” Fullbuster muttered as he shrugged. “Oh well, she’s my ex-wife, Mika. And she’s on my case for not taking proper care of Gray.”

“Oh c’mon,” Clive started which was probably not going to be the smartest thing he had ever said, “you didn’t recognise her hair colour? That’s _horrible_.”

“Couldn’t happen to you, huh?” Ur threw in from where she was working. “Although – that’s probably the reason why you date just brunettes, so you can always be sure to get the hair colour right. Pretty smart, I’m impressed.”

“Nah,” Fullbuster said as he unclenched his fists, “I was just horrible with hair colours – and colours in general – before I had the phase in which I killed people for my country.”

And for a moment, Ivan was sorry for him. It was difficult to imagine what he would have done if his wife would have left him over the choice of his profession. All his life, Ivan had wanted to do the right thing, had wanted to use his intelligence to help others – and it was easy and terrifying at the same time. He could not do without people who were on his side, without people who understood and supported him. He could not be the person he was without Roxanne who had always been there when he had needed someone who was capable of unconditional love and support. And he tried, he tried so hard to give her back all the love she deserved and this was not always easy. 

* * *

**it’s in the abc of growing up**

* * *

 

They did not even make it out of the building. Looking back, Gildarts should have known better than to rely on Ur’s claim – no matter how confident – that she had talked with Chres Vastia and that everything was okay again because the last few times, she had said it, it had never been correct either. In Gildarts’ humble and completely unbiased opinion, life had been better before the man had made his appearance in Ur’s life.

And he knew her, he knew her well enough to know that she would never be okay with pushing people out of her life for good. So no, he was not surprised when Chres Vastia was leaning against the pillar by the exit, a smirk in place.

The agent – high-ranking, one of the director’s favourites or so they said – was certainly not unattractive for someone interested in men and he was definitively better looking than Ur’s ex-fiancé although this was nothing Gildarts would ever say out loud. Chres Vastia was tall and of athletic build, his hair had the oddest shade of silver blond and he had green eyes some female agents had written poetry about.

(Gildarts wished he would be kidding about this part but sadly, he was not.)

“Long time no see, Ice Queen,” the man said as he pushed himself away from the wall, his movements catlike as always. But Gildarts knew better than to underestimate the man; there were not many who had been through as many undercover jobs as this man – and who had always come back. If Vastia had been an agent of some federal agency previously or if he had been through military training, Gildarts would have guessed that this was what had been keeping him alive but as this was not given, he had to admit that the man was bright enough to know to pick his battles.

“Chres,” Ur said as she raised her eyebrow at the man, an expression of hesitation on her face. Gildarts had always had the feeling that the mere presence of the other man was taking either bit of her intelligence or her fierceness away for the woman – which was probably because Chres Vastia was one of the very few people who played exactly in Ur’s league which translated into expert for pretty much everything which perhaps explained their chemistry.

“You still got my knife,” he said as he held out his hand, smiling slightly as she removed it from the holster on her arm and returned it into his own. “And I am under strict orders to wish you a happy birthday from Lyon. He made something for you, I’ll have it delivered to your office. And I got a present for you as well. Noticed that your old one was getting a bit outdated.”

She smiled as she brushed back a strand of her hair, a nervous gesture. “You know, this is just not necessary,” she said quietly but there was a gleam in her eyes – and this gleam was more than the reminder that out of all the children she knew, Vastia’s kid was one of the few she could tolerate being around without feeling awkward after a few minutes.

“Try to tell that Lyon,” he said as he procured a shapeless present from behind his back. “Have a nice evening, Ur, and try not to get too worried about me when I’m missing for a while; I’ll be on a vacation.”

“I think the only one getting worried about you is you,” she said with a huff as she pushed the gift into her bag. “Anyway, give Lyon a hug from me and remind him to tell me that I still owe him the end to that story.”

“You do,” he said as he turned around, heading back to his office, “but I doubt he got to worry – you’ll finish the story, I have no doubt.”

She smiled as she gave him a nod before she took up walking, throwing her bag into the trunk of her car as they reached it. “Don’t, Gil,” she said as she ran a hand through her hair, huffing. “Really, just – don’t.”

So she still managed to catch on when he did not exactly approve of what she was doing. He had had her back for years, they had been through hell and back and it vexed him that the times in which he could have simply thrown her over his shoulder to carry her away from what could just hurt her later on. He had been there, he had carried her away from her – well, usually the kind that had threatened her physical wellbeing but there was no reason why he should deceive himself by assuming that emotional harm could not be just as painful.

“Can we just not do this now?” Dreyar asked as he took the seat behind the driver, obviously aware of the way Ur would drive her car. “Really, there are more important things to handle right now.”

Definitions of importance could wary but it seemed that Dreyar was inclined to make the best out of this day and this sentiment was one Gildarts could agree with.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Fullbuster asked and Gildarts was tempted to connect his palm to his forehead as he slid onto the passenger seat. What kind of person would sign up for something that they knew nothing about?

Dreyar’s grin, however, was priceless. It reminded Gildarts of the movie he had watched a few months back with his then-date and yet, he had to say that the medical examiner could put the Cheshire cat to shame.

“…I don’t think I like that smirk, Dreyar,” the other specialist muttered as he pressed his lips together. “This announces nothing good, does it?”

No, it did not. Not even Gildarts was particularly happy about what was to follow but it was Ur’s birthday and so rather than to go to a club or a bar, they would do something she liked. No, scratch that, they would indulge one of her more or less secret hobbies – karaoke. In a way, Gildarts knew that he had only himself to blame because he had been the one to drag her there when he had had a bad day and he had wanted to laugh at people who could not sing and get some good drinks.

At the time, the karaoke bar had sounded like a good idea. Looking back, he had signed up for a lifetime of awkward evenings there because whenever Ur was feeling a little under the weather or was generally unhappy with something (or rather: someone), she would drag him there and they would spend a few hours there.

Although there was an upside. He had grown so immune to embarrassment that in the case that if Cornelia would ever want to go there, he would be able to sing without batting an eye, simply because he was used to it by now and once he had had two drinks, there was no way he would not sing, anyway.

“Ur doesn’t has many hobbies that constitute in appropriate after work activities,” Gildarts started before he felt a sharp jab in his side. “Alright, that came out pretty wrong. Anyway, aside from gambling—”

“Which we do not talk about,” she said sharply as she reached for her sunglasses, sighing deeply, because this was what she did, a lot.

“That’s a story I’d like to hear,” Fullbuster said as he leaned forward, a grin on his face.

“My grandfather owns several casinos,” she said after a moment, pressing her lips into a thin line. “ ** _Paradice_** , in case you heard about that. They all belong to him.”

Ur did not like to talk about her family, much like Dreyar avoided it as well. In both cases, it made sense. The ice queen’s relationship to her family could be called troubled at best and the medical examiner had defied his parents’ wishes – or so they said on the hallways.

Gildarts knew that the medical examiner was the son of General Dreyar – a man renowned for his tactical skill – and the director of the National Anti Hazard Agency, Porlyusica Edel, and he could understand that having those two as parents was not easy, especially as both of them were practical people who took risks. Gildarts could vouch that at least the director was not above making decisions that seemed entirely insane at first but always turned out to be the proper course of action.

(Which did not mean that he had forgiven her for Crocus – or that he ever would.)

And the general was, at least according to Dreyar, no one anyone would want to cross because the man had the loyalty of his men – much like Director Babasama had the loyalty of all her agents which was sometimes a rather fear-inspiring realisation because there was nothing more terrifying than a person who was willed to die for someone else’s causes.

_(“Foolish, foolish, Agent. You don’t die for a friend or for a leader – you die for their causes.”)_

He would never quite forget those words although he had long forgotten who had been the one to tell him this. It was sometimes a little too easy to ignore that he was a leader now and that one day, there might be someone on his team who would have to make a difficult decision and to take the bullet for the team. He prayed that it would be him, rather than Fullbuster or Ur, because Fullbuster had a son and Ur had been through more than enough. They both would not deserve the burden of this decision, in his opinion.

“No worries,” Dreyar said, interrupting Gildarts’ thoughts. “You’ll get to see Ur’s gambling skill soon enough … because that’s how she’ll make it through the undercover operation.”

“I’ll treat you all to dinner afterwards – just not you, Ivan, ‘cause we all know that you’ll probably cheat somehow and make more money than I,” she said as she reached for her lipstick, a grin on her face. “So, Ivan, go tell the newbie what’s on the program for this evening.”

“…is it theatre? I hate the theatre,” Fullbuster muttered as he crossed his arms, sighing deeply.

“Ur’s number one guilty pleasure habit – Karaoke,” Dreyar said and the expression on the other man’s face said, quite literally, ‘hell no’ and this alone made it priceless for Gildarts.


	7. vii.

_**vii.** _

* * *

**arrogant boy, love yourself so no one has to**

* * *

It was a lazy afternoon. The August sun was shining through the large windows and revealed every particle of dust to be present on the screen of his computer and he sighed as he wiped it away, taking another sip of his coffee. It was the days that lacked any excitement aside from the inevitable fights between Lund and Clive about pretty much everything in the world. It was normal and judging from the way Clive grinned and the way the frown on Lund’s forehead was not as expressed as usually, their fight seemed to be even less important than usually and this was, in a way, calming.

Lund was humming one of the songs she liked so much as she lounged on the windowsill, cat-like, seemingly boneless, as if she had been poured into this place – a metaphor that made him think of whiskey and this was hardly appropriate to think about at work. Not that all his other thoughts were appropriate. It was quite the opposite of this.

On the table in the middle of the room, he spotted an assortment of photographs someone, probably Dreyar, had taken during their undercover job which had been more than just a few weeks ago. They had kept busy, had solved some cases, had become the director’s favourite team which was weird because he could not remember the last time he had been someone’s favourite. He smirked as he spotted the picture of Lund jabbing her elbow into Clive’s side because he had made an inappropriate comment about her dress – in the end, she had not worn the one Dreyar and Clive had bought for her because it would have showed off an injury she had had suffered in the meantime – and then, he nearly smiled because he remembered how Clive had doubled over, hissing in pain.

(It had reminded him that the one he called Bambi was not to be messed with which, of course, did not mean that he had stopped.)

It was not his fault that ever since he had joined this team of unique personalities, everything had turned into a huge mess. He liked to imagine that their foolishness was not catching but the truth was that they had long warped their ways into his head.

“Agent Lund.”

The woman came to her feet with a fluid movement before she corrected the position of her headband, never halting her approach. In the doorway stood one of the office girls, one of the shyer ones. Eileen – he did not know her last name but that was what Lund kept calling her – had an awfully quiet voice which annoyed him considerably because it made it hard for him to understand her. And Clive kept laughing at him whenever he told the poor girl to speak up a bit for some reason.

“Eileen,” Bambi said as she reached over Silver’s shoulder to get a hold on the folders on the table. “Thanks for coming up so quick; these have to be taken up to Director Babasama, those go to Agent Vastia and finally, could you tell Agent Neekis that Agent Marvell was looking for him? Something about their project, in case he asks.”

“No worries, madam, I’ll get to it as soon as possible,” the girl said as she nervously toyed with her ponytail. “Oh, Agent Vastia asked me to tell you that … _the lion demands to be fed.”_

“Tell him I’ll handle it, Eileen,” Lund said as she handed over the stack of replies before she halted, titling her head to the side. “Is there something else we need to discuss?”

“Uh, I was going to the coffee shop,” the young woman muttered as she stared at her feet, likely intimidated by Lund’s sheer presence. “And, um, if you’d want, I could bring some coffee for this team?”

According to Clive, coffee was what made the world go round and in the example of this team, this was certainly true. With the sole exception of Dreyar who was not much of a fan of the drink (which did not mean that Silver did not bring him coffee whenever he went down to the morgue), they all drank coffee more or less around the clock. In the early shifts, Lund started the coffeemaker before she started the computers and this said something about the team’s coffee addiction.

So usually, when someone offered to bring them coffee, the answer was yes. Hell, ‘getting coffee’ was the only valid excuse to get an extra break that existed in this office. Therefore, Silver was taken aback when Clive stepped up, lowering the report he had been staring at for half an hour without doing much. “Thank you for this nice offer, Eileen, but no, I don’t want coffee at the moment,” he said, _awfully_ smooth and friendly for a change which instantly made Silver feel very suspicious – his partner did not talk like this, usually. He was a nice man but he was rather gruff in his ‘charm’. And since when did a member of their team turn down coffee?

Eileen smiled uneasily over at Lund who seemed to be frozen and if the glare she was directing at Clive was any indication, she was beyond displeased, she was downright pissed for some reason Silver could not exactly comprehend. “Agent Lund,“ the office girl – there was certainly a specific term but Silver could not remember it at the moment – started politely as she rocked back and forth on her feet, “do you perhaps want some coffee? Or wait, you prefer espresso, don’t you?”

Lund’s glare softened but this did not mean that she suddenly became a cheery copy of her usual self, no, she was just less grumpy than usual. “Sorry, but no,” she said as she glared at Silver, sharply, “and Agent Fullbuster just mentioned that he doesn’t want any coffee today either.”

“Oh, o-okay,” the girl stuttered and then, she was gone and Silver was glaring at the agent who went back to putting folders into the right order while Clive was more silent than usual.

“That was downright cruel of you, Ur,” the red-haired man then said as he looked at her, disapproval written across his face. “Really, I haven’t experienced something like that since—“

“It was _necessary_ ,” she replied sharply as she gritted her teeth, briefly lifting her gaze from the stack of reports in front of her. “I told you I would do something like this.”

For a brief moment, Silver contented himself with just looking from one of them to the other, trying to figure out what on earth was happening now again. “…does Eileen got a crush on Lund?” he then asked as he frowned deeply. The girl was awfully quiet and shy whenever she appeared in the office and maybe, it was because she could not think straight in the female agent’s presence. He had heard weirder stories.

 ** _“What?”_** Lund turned around, a face like a thunderstorm. “No, god, you are _really_ oblivious.”

He raised an eyebrow at her as he leaned into her personal space, smirking. “Does this mean that you got a crush on big bad me?” he chuckled although he could not help but briefly entertain the idea. It was a nice one.

It seemed that he had caught her completely off guard because she spluttered before she pushed him away, huffing. “In your dreams, perhaps,” she said as she rolled her eyes, cheeks pale as always.

“I doubt that dreams including you would be rated T,” he smirked because it was all in good fun and they both could take a joke.

“I assume that they are rated M,” she said as she headed over to the kitchen, “for _violence_.”

Clive smirked for half a second before he went back to looking at her in disapproval which seemed to be of crucial importance right now.

“Lund,” he said, then, still frowning at her, “you aren’t getting out of this so easily. You may have successfully distracted Fullbuster but I don’t fall for your little mind games.”

She rolled her eyes, a sigh escaping her. “Believe me,” she smirked, “if I wanted to, I would be able to wrap your mind around my little finger. Anyway, since you asked, Fullbuster … no, as far as I am informed, Eileen is not crushing on me. She is crushing on _you_.”

Oh. He was taken slightly aback, realising that he had vastly misread the entire situation. “You got to be kidding me,” he said as he frowned at her. “C’mon, she hardly gets—”

“A single word out in your presence?” she raised her eyebrows and sighed deeply. “She likes you … believe me, I am able to notice things like this.”

Clive snorted which gave Silver the rare chance of seeing coffee dripping from the man’s nose which was actually pretty disgusting. “You mean, you are good at knowing who is crushing on everyone but the moment someone is crushing on you, you are oblivious,” he said as he reached for some tissues. “Anyway, Fullbuster, your phone is ringing.”

And this was when the day took a distinctive turn to the worse and looking back, he would never be able to believe that moments earlier, he had been joking around with his teammates.

* * *

**everything's turning dark to you**

* * *

 

Ivan stepped into the office and he instantly knew that he could hardly have picked a worse moment. Ur was lacing up her combat boots, Clive was pushing one of his countless knives – usually, he had confiscicated him from the sole woman on the team – into the holster on his arm and Fullbuster was bursting with nothing but raw anger.

“Ready,” Ur confirmed as she threw her blouse onto the desk, arms crossed over her shirt covered chest and hair in a mess.

“Go,” Gildarts said as he grabbed her wrist and dragged her through the door while Fullbuster had nearly reached the stairs. “Dreyar, no time for questions, just follow us.”

The last time Ivan had witnessed Ur ‘suiting up’ as the jargon was had been years ago – before she had destroyed governmental proprietary during a car chase which had gotten her suspended for three weeks – which was coincidentally the same amount of time she had needed to recover from the injuries she had suffered during the aforementioned chase. There were not many occasions that demanded from the youngest member of the team to trade her immaculate blouses for her sleeveless shirts and the times she changed, nothing good had ever come out of it.

But he followed them as they rushed down the stairs because although they were a bunch of idiots who sometimes did smart things (or maybe it was the other way around, he did not know), they were his team and he felt somewhat responsible for them because no one among them had been a part of ECID for as long as he had been there and following them into what was likely to be a disaster, was something he could do although the last time he had been tangled up in their field business, he had ended up with a bomb strapped to his chest on his son’s birthday.

This time, he doubted that bombs would be involved but he still would prefer to know what he was getting himself into because otherwise, he would head into another catastrophe without the proper preparation. Today, however, there seemed to be some sort of preparation although it was somewhat worrisome to see them all don their field garb, the clothes they wore than they dealt with the really horrible people.

“What happened?” he asked as he found the place in the back, next to Clive who appeared to be sensing the same weird kind of energy that had Ur biting her lip as she switched on the blue lights and the siren, her eyes narrowed because she focused.

“…someone runs a vendetta against Fullbuster,” Clive said as car slid around a curve. “Goddammit, Ur, you’ll get us killed before we even get there. Drive carefully.”

The first rule newcomers to investigation learned that the moment Agent Lund got her hands on the steering wheel of a vehicle, she was – inside the vehicle – god and no one told her how she had to handle the car or whatever else she was steering because the moment her hands touched the wheel, she was in the zone.

“We don’t have time for careful,” Fullbuster said, an agonised hiss from the passenger seat. “Keep going, Lund, and well…”

“No need to thank me,” she said and then, there was an awkward little break because she did not talk much when she was driving this fast.

“I still would like to be filled in,” Ivan said, trying to be brave. There was no way he could expect help from Ur, she was preoccupied with her driving, and Fullbuster appeared to be lost in thoughts, in very angry thoughts.

“One of the first people we ever arrested,” Clive started and there was something undeniable dangerous in his eyes, “broke out of prison … when we caught him, he swore that Fullbuster would regret the day he ever heard his name.”

“…he went after my son and my ex-wife,” Fullbuster said after a moment, his face darkened, and for a moment, Ivan was not quite sure what was happening. There was, of course, the possibility that the specialist still loved his former wife but somehow, the medical examiner had his doubts about this. There might be some lingering affection involved but for the sake of everyone involved – emotionally or not – he hoped that there would be a painless way out of this complete mess.

“He might be still in the house,” Clive said as he bit his lip, one of the few things that gave away his nervousness without a fail and Ivan knew what made the man feel uneasy; Fullbuster was a ticking time bomb and there was no way that their specialist for explosives could disable this bomb without getting hurt as well.

“That explains the combat uniform,” Ivan said as he tapped Ur’s shoulder, a frown on his face. “Lund – when did you last suit up?”

She froze and nearly hit a mailbox, her facial expression unreadable as she steadied her grasp on the steering wheel and when he saw anger ghosting through her eyes, he wondered whether she was angry at someone or something but before he could come to a conclusion, she spoke. “A long time ago,” she said as she turned a corner, her jaw set in defiance. “That’s why I am not going in.”

Ivan knew her too well to fall for her lies even when she was believing them. She was not going in because Clive did not want her to, because Clive was terrified for her sake. And Ivan could understand this fear that was rooted deep inside the man who was once her partner, who had once had her back in everything they had gone through. He did not have a platonic love like this but he was married and he could understand the desire to keep someone else safe at any cost, even if it meant to be manipulative. It was better to scorn someone than to have to attend a funeral.

(The first lesson his mother had taught him.)

“…Mika is dead,” Fullbuster said and there was an angry tremble in his voice and in his fists.

Ivan knew the theories about grief, knew how it was taught that grief consisted out of steps, out of denial, anger, bargaining, depression and finally, acceptance.

And if the years in which he had dealt with death and the dead on a nearly daily basis had taught him anything, it would be how wrong this theory was. No one warned the widow that there would be the day when she woke up in the morning and for a moment, she would believe that her husband was still there, that her world had not been torn apart in a day. The moment would be brief but it would hurt. No one cautioned the father that the anger came in waves, that all could be okay – because it would never be good again – and that he would be sitting in his seat, solving a crossword like every Sunday and all of a sudden, he would scream and punch the walls because his daughter was gone, gone forever, far before her time. No one prepared the sister that she would pray to gods she did not believe in, asking – no, _begging_ fit better – them to give her back her older brother because the world was not the same without him. There was nothing on this planet that could prepare the young man for the days when he will cry because his best friend had been taken from him far too early and the CD for his birthday was still wrapped into pretty paper, for the days when he could not get out of bed to face the day because there would be no one waiting for him on the corner, sipping a glass of orange juice.

But mostly, no one ever told others that one day, they would learn to breathe with the emptiness in their chest and that it would be possible to understand that someone was gone forever – and that the agony would cease, wrapped into new memories of days that were not good but okay at least.

(And Ivan knew that no one would ever accept death.)

(Love simply did not allow it.)

Ivan mused, briefly, in what stage Fullbuster would remain trapped because he doubted that the man would be able to bounce back from this so easily. The dead woman – and Ivan remembered her as someone who had been alive, fuming with anger but so very alive – had had an impact on the man’s life, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

Each time two people met, they left an imprint on the other one.

Ivan could not imagine who he would have become without Roxanne. He would have been lost, a little boat, pushed around by waves out of his control. She had guided him, she had been his lighthouse. She had given him a better life, a life where he had what he needed. There were still a few things he would like to change but it was alright. He was alright. He was learning to speak in a way that did not make people liken his tongue to a sword. He still felt like he was surrounded by idiots, most of the time, but it was not as easy to keep the distance anymore, they were dragging him into their mad dance and it was fine by him.

In the end, other people were the best teachers and they were teaching him to speak without feeling like he had to put as much information as possible into a single sentence. He had time. Time for ten sentences instead of three. It was okay. It was enough. He was enough.

“So,” Ur said as she stopped the car, finally straightened her headband which made Ivan sigh because he had been tempted to do the same for five minutes, at least. “You’re up.”

She did not have to say so – Fullbuster bolted out of the car and into the house like he was getting paid for it and Clive followed, not much slower. Ivan took note of the way her shoulders were set in a firm line and he sighed.

“…you like him,” he said and he was not sure if it had been wise to call her out on this while she was listening to the men via her headset.

“Huh?” she asked as she looked over her shoulder, her face betraying both confusion and worry. “Was there something you said?”

And for once, Ivan decided to take the easy way out by shaking his head, a warm smile on his face. “No, I suppose not,” he said as he shook his head. There would be a time for him to confront her about the feelings she seemed to harbour and maybe, when this time came, she would be aware of those feelings as well. 

* * *

**remember rights that i did wrong, so here i go**

* * *

 

Gildarts was standing amidst the wreckage of what had probably once been Fullbuster’s life.

Mika was dead, she was lying on the floor, a hole in her forehead where it did not belong. The agent sighed deeply as he bent down, closing her eyes. She did not have to see what was happening in the room right now, did not have to watch how her ex-husband beat the man who had killed her with so much force and cruel precision that there was no way the man would leave the house alive.

The redhead mused briefly that he was likely supposed to do something to stop his partner from doing this but he did not think that this was his place. He could understand the fury and the desire to make someone bleed with nothing but the own fists but he supposed that it would have been better for everyone – including Ur’s blood pressure and Babasama’s patience with them – if it would look a little more like an accident.

“Fullbuster,” he said as he confiscated the weapon the man had used to kill the poor woman. “Calm the _fuck_ down.”

He would restrain his partner if it came down to it because there were things the ECID could not afford and an agent beating a man – even if it was a horrible person and a murderer – to death was one of them. He understand his partner’s wrath about this – hell, he would do nothing else if it was his ex-wife dead on the ground and his son somewhere in hiding – but he had to act as the team leader he aspired to be and there was no way he could stand for this.

“That bastard—” Fullbuster seemed to be barely consistent in his speech and Gildarts sighed as he rested a hand on his partner’s shoulder and dragged him away.

“Breathe,” he ordered and he wished that he was the department’s psychologist because Layla Heartfilia had a gift to get through to angry people when they were so furious that they could hardly remain human, when they threatened to fall apart – red fury seeping out of the edges.

He remembered a time when his mother’s teachings had been a constant whisper in his ears. She had taught him to be kind and forgiving – _“you’ll break yourself if you don’t, son,”_ she had said – and she had taught him how to touch someone without bruising them because he was so strong, too much strength wrapped around his arms, too much of a temper running in his veins. It had helped him when he had been twenty-three and his partner at NAHA had been the girl that had always looked at the world with eyes too wide.

(Fullbuster had been right to call her Bambi, not that Gildarts would ever admit that much.)

He had not trusted the girl with the soft voice because there had had to e more underneath the surface and true to his younger self, he had looked for the wound and he had put his finger into it. He had thought he had known her when they had been young, when she had been the youngest in his class, when she had been the only one to try to keep up with him in terms of physical education. He had not trusted her because she had kept secrets hidden well inside her chest, wrapped up neatly, making them look pretty although they most certainly were not. And yet, he had remembered his mother’s words on how to tear someone apart until they were left with nothing but the very essence of who they really were, until there was no lie left, until all the pain and longing and hurt were worn brightly on one’s sleeve.

(Sometimes, he did not understand how Ur ever forgave him for doing this.)

(Sometimes, he thought that this was why she had left him so easily.)

When he first met Fullbuster, he had refused to acknowledge that he should tear him apart as well. He still heard his mother’s warning in his ears, telling him that there was little good that could come from a man who was half-unmade-half-repaired but he had ignored it because he had known that this man did not want to be saved. Fullbuster had always been frozen in a way that had reminded Gildarts of Ur had been before she had allowed herself to be changed. In the end, Gildarts genuinely believed that both of his partners suffered from a deep black hole inside their chests, holes of loneliness that had never been filled up because what they had wanted had rarely been what they had actually needed and so they had never figured out how to fix themselves.

The truth was: whether it was Dreyar who was so much more at ease lately or Ur who had a heart like a hummingbird, whether it was Fullbuster who was looking for something he did not know about yet or Gildarts who was  certain that he had what he needed in life, they all were bruised in ways most people simply missed. Dreyar spoke too fast when he was nervous, Ur carried the scars the past had left on her mind on her skin, written in black ink. Fullbuster tried to mask his anger by simply not caring about anything, Gildarts cared too much about everything and tried to keep saving people because this was why he had joined the NAHA, this was why he had changed uniforms and had joined ECID. He was strong enough to carry the burden for others, for people who would break underneath this weight. He liked it, he thought. He liked it that people acknowledged this raw strength of his.

(The Director had assigned him the alias of Atlas, a few years ago, a nod to what he really wanted to do in his life. He had been immensely grateful for this because he had feared it had been missed.)

“I’m breathing,” Fullbuster snapped, a furious expression on his face as his face was pale as snow. “And now let me finish—”

“I’m sorry but I can’t let that happen,” Gildarts interrupted calmly as he gritted his teeth. The murderer was in a horrible state already, could not even put up a fight anymore. “If you really want to beat someone, go ahead. Beat me. Because I can handle that.”

He was not trained for situations like this. He had never considered being a leader until he had assembled a team and the director had looked at him with a nearly proud expression on her face and had said _“Good job, agent. I assume that you’ll take good care of them”_. He had argued against it, had reminded her of the protocol – he was a Level 7 agent while Ur was Level 5, she should handle this – but the old lady had just looked at him and informed him that she saw more potential in him than in her because he appeared to be a natural talent.

No, Gildarts had never wanted to be a leader because he had always been okay with following orders when they had come from people he had been able to trust, people who were reasonable, who had a moral codex much like his own. And this was why he preferred Director Babasama over Director Edel.

“Why?” Fullbuster asked and there was so much bitterness in this sole word, it made Gildarts shudder but he stood his ground because he had always been steady, unerring. He was the rock, he could carry the weight of their world. But he did not talk about this. He could take the full weight of their decisions and their mistakes but this did not mean that he did appreciate it, that he liked the way their frowns looked.

“It may be hard to imagine but Ur isn’t the only one I care about,” he said as he sighed deeply. “Talking about her, I’ll call her in … you have an important conversation with your son to tend to.”

And this was a burden Gildarts refused to carry for his partner because this was personal and Gray had the right to hear the truth from his father. There were things he would not shoulder although he could.

“Bad idea,” Ur said as she slipped into the room, her hand wrapped around Dreyar’s wrist – and thanks to Fullbuster’s outburst, Gildarts remembered a time when those hands had snapped necks like it meant nothing to her. At the time, it likely had meant nothing to her, indeed. But these days, she was wary of the weight of the world she had seen.

And for a moment, Gildarts realised why she appeared to be so out of it, why she was looking in her bag for the first aid kit rather than to act the way she usually would. Ur was reminded of an event in the faraway past, when Gildarts had been in Fullbuster’s place. He could see the thoughts racing behind her eyes, could see the way her lips became thin at the sight of the man’s hands shaking because he was furious, could see the silent realisation that she did not know how to stop him.

He remembered how once, she had looked at her own hands, whispering how she no longer knew whom those hands truly belonged to, an agent, a killer. In the end, she had accepted that there was no difference, that there never had been one. Today, she had this expression again and he wondered when she would finally acknowledge that the sole way to accept the past was by finding someone who had demons that played well with her own – and this was difficult because no one knew what exactly was hiding behind her carefully crafted masks.

“Bad idea why?” Gildarts asked as he rested his hand on her shoulder as she let go of Dreyar and instead reached out for Fullbuster.

“Because he looks horrible,” she replied drily as she brushed back a strand of her hair, a sigh escaping her lips. She was a mess, too, sometimes but she owned it in a way no one else would ever be able to because she had accepted this weakness, she had made it hers. She had always been good at building homes everywhere, in the little niche between who she had been and who she would be.

“I resent that notion, Lund,” Fullbuster said but she dragged him off, searching for something to get the blood off his hands, to remove the anger from his face because otherwise, he would scare his own child.

* * *

**caught up with you then**

* * *

 

It had been a horrible week for Fullbuster, Ur mused as she pushed another magazine into the handgun she was using for her training. Gray had been unable to understand what had happened to his mother and Ur remembered well how he had sounded when he had called the office to let them know that the funeral would be on Friday. What had worried her the most was that he had not sounded especially horrified by all of it. She would have assumed that he would let his mask slip at least a little because whether they had been divorced or not, he had been married to Mika at some point of time.

She was not quite sure why she had decided to actually make an appearance at the funeral – it had been Gildarts who had talked her into this, never mind the awkwardness of it – but she did know why she was at the shooting range, her hair pinned up, her eyes covered by safety glasses and her jacket on the hook behind her.

“This is hardly the proper gear for the range, Lund,” Grandine Marvell scolded as she bound her hair into a messy bun, red eyes gleaming dangerously. “I heard about it.”

“We didn’t make a secret out of it,” Ur replied as she kept her eyes trained on the mark, her lips pressed into a thin line. “And I’m not staying long, I was just wrapping everything up.”

“Of course,” Chres said smoothly, towering behind the petite agent. “You are going to the funeral, correct?”

“Yes,” she said, her face even. She did not actually like the idea of going there but according to her almighty team leader, it was necessary and she was far too tired lately to fight with Gildarts about every little detail. Especially not after he had accused her of planning to overthrow him the last time they had clashed.

The problem was, she thought, as she fired the last shots she had left at the target – all perfect hits because she was focusing and the mark did not move around – the problem was that there was too much underlying history within the team. There were too many stories that belonged to two people, sometimes three – but there were no stories that belonged to all of them. Fullbuster – maybe she should start to think of him as Silver by now although it sounded weird in her head – had not been there, he did not understand why the mere mention of the (second) Zinnia Assignment made Ur laugh tears while Gildarts was crimson in his face and yelled at her to shut up.

(The second Zinnia assignment had been the one that had included Gildarts wearing a dress and no matter how sad Ur was, the memory made her smile all over again.)

The problem was, too, she decided as she returned the gun to the holster where it belonged, that she had gone too long without making a home out of something and that – and this sounded _pathetic_ from a former architect – she was beginning to lose her ability to build. She craved it, in a way. She knew that it was unhealthy to build homes in people but this was what she had always wanted to do and so she did not care about the risks.

(The last home she had build had been when she had held Gildarts’ hand after the (first) Zinnia Assignment when he had come out of surgery and had hissed at him to never scare her like this ever again.)

 _‘…you like him,’_ Ivan had said and it had been neither a question nor an accusation and yet, she had pretended that she had not heard his voice because there had been something terrifying about this because she was not someone who fell over some cheap lines and a few smirks, for some dubious compliments.

Another friend of hers had sighed and had told her that she was thinking too much about the what ifs in life and that she forgot to live in the spaces between two moments. Ur supposed that this might be true but her friend was not the most reliable person when it came to life advice because she was married and went home to a loving husband and an adorable daughter who seemed to be made of spun gold.

(It is not that she has sworn to never start something with a co-worker – most of her romantic relationships had been with other agents, after all – but there seemed to be something very odd and slightly inappropriate about this overall situation and so she came to the conclusion that this was something that might have worked out in another universe where they all had less bruises but not in this one.)

(End of the discussion, really.)

“Ur,” Chres interrupted her thoughts and she turned, looking at him as she forced a smile to make an appearance on her face. “Are you—”

“Don’t ask,” she muttered as she reached for her jacket, smiling because this was her best lie. Ivan had once guessed that about twelve percent of her smiles were not genuine, she roughly estimated that they were talking about thirty-three percent. “I am fine, Chres, really – just.”

He finished the sentence for her because after all those years – nearly ten years since the day he had strolled into the conference room with a grin on his face and a cup of coffee in his hand – he could assume that he knew her well enough to guess what she was thinking when she was not even trying to hide it. “It is not what you expected,” he said quietly and he was right. It was not too much. She had been through a lot of shit along the years and this was not even remotely on the level of the past days, this did not even graze the surface. This was just a new type of situation, one she had to get used to.

“Yes,” she said, grateful for his understanding, as she felt a hand on her shoulder and then, she looked at Ivan. “Time to go?” she asked as she reached for her jacket, briefly musing what she would tell him if he asked why she had been at the shooting range which was, as far as he knew, a place she preferred to avoid although they both knew that she could not avoid the scars of her past, not when they were everywhere, waiting to tell stories that should not be told.

“Time to go,” Ivan said and they stepped away, into the cool corridors of the building, before they walked down the hallways with nothing but silence between them for the longest time.

“Your tie is crooked,” she said as she reached out, correcting it without much of a thought. She had always liked everything that was done with muscles and not with the brain because she remembered just too well when she had been called a cheater, just because her mind had picked up things faster.

“…thanks, mom,” he said and she laughed, genuinely, because no matter what happened, no matter how much around them ended up ruined – he would still call her this to tease her, to push her a little because they both understood that the joke went deeper than the obvious. Indeed, she was the youngest member of the team. But she had also once been his mother’s favourite agent.

(Those were times she did not talk about.)

“We’re ready,” she said as she stepped to her desk, locking her gun away because they were going to a funeral and even they would not need a weapon at a funeral.

“We are,” he confirmed as he offered her his arm and together, they stepped into the elevator.


	8. viii.

**_viii._  **

* * *

**when i’m upside down**

* * *

 

He was taking another sip of his whiskey, his jacket crumbled on the chair next to him when someone sat down on the chair on the other side of the table. Sighing, he looked up and found himself surprised because the newcomer was not the one he had expected. Lund had caught on, he had known that. She had looked at him like she knew that he was going to go out for a few drinks. He supposed, Dreyar had known it as well, there was not much anyone could get past that man. And yet, it was his partner who was sitting there, a glass of beer in his hand and his uniform wrinkled.

“I was sent to check up on you,” the man said as he took a sip of his drink, his voice nonchalant as always. “Not that I see much of a point in it; you seem to be doing just fine right now.”

It did not take a genius that it had likely not been Lund to send him as she was not the sort of person to get involved with someone’s emotional issues as she had far too many of her own.  And because she was a firm believer in cleaning up the own messes before dedicating patience to other people’s problems, as well. Dreyar would make little sense as well and so it left his old friend Layla who would not be caught dead in a bar – which was good as this was really not her kind of place – but who had always had a knack for knowing what he was going to do next.

“I’m good,” he said as he took a sip of his drink, shrugging. “But lemme guess, they all say that I am not supposed to be handling it like this.”

“This is actually what Heartfilia thinks, yes,” his partner said with a nod as he ordered some cheese – what was it with Clive and cheese, anyway? – before he drew a knife out of the holster on his forearm. “Frosty and Dreyar both say that everyone deals with loss in a different manner and that this might just be yours.”

 _Frosty_. Yet another cold-related nickname for the female agent and one that sounded slightly more affectionate than ‘ice queen’ which had no one used lately for some reason Silver had yet to comprehend. Nonetheless, it bothered him that they had talked about him while he had not been there. It was not fair, in his eyes.

“So my notable stoicism is the main gossip topic right now?” he asked as he wondered if he should order another slice of chocolate cake. He probably would, sooner or later.

“Not really, no,” the man said with a shrug as he stared at the knife with an expression that implied certain disbelief. “Heartfilia voiced worry about you, Dreyar and Ur were very quick in trying to disperse said worries.”

He snorted because what did they know about the way he felt before he remembered that he was talking about their profiler and a man who called ‘body language’ his hobby so maybe, they made at least good guesses on what was happening to him. “…this wasn’t supposed to happen,” he said quietly and he was not even sure what he meant, whether he was talking about Mika’s death, whether he was talking about the team that mattered a little too much to him by now – not enough to die for them, hell no, but enough to acknowledge that they were all different in their ways to handle stress – or whether he was talking about his son who had lost his mother (and probably his father, too, a long time ago).

“No, it was not,” Clive agreed as he used the knife to cut the cheese, a pensive expression on his face. “You know, maybe you should get this out of your system … I mean, sure, you did quite a number on that guy but … you might need to go up against someone who can fight back, who is an actual challenge.”

Given Silver’s size and his physical strength, he could scratch tons of people off the list until only a few remained who might indeed be a challenging opponent for him. There was, of course, Clive himself who was one of the toughest agents in the department. Silver had heard the tales about Chres Vastia as well, especially the infamous tale of the man’s survival when he had been nearly crushed by the collapsing Opalescent Building and so Vastia was certainly someone he would rather not mess with unless he was armed.

“Let me guess, some poor soul suffered today,” he said instead, not wanting to even entertain the idea of going over a few rounds with someone who could and would hit back. It might be unwise, he was still an open wound and he was not sure if he would be able to hold back – and injuring a co-worker might be a bad idea.

“I wouldn’t say ‘a poor soul’ … Dreyar packs quite the punch and it’s not like Frosty is still offering to spar with me, these days,” Clive said with a nonchalant shrug. “Could be because the last time we sparred, she nearly broke my arm.”

It made sense, both Lund and Clive had NAHA training and this had consisted of martial arts. And if the rumours he had heard were anything to go by, acrobatics had been involved as well – which appeared laughable to Silver in the case of Clive who was tall and had seemingly more muscles than brain.

“That’s what you get from holding back,” Silver remarked in an offhanded manner as he looked back at his drink.

“If I’d ever held back against her, I’d be dead,” the man said with a serious expression on his face, one that made it obvious that he was not kidding about this. “You don’t hold back against her – if you do, you either die because she overestimated you or because she is pissed that you thought her to be weak.”

This sounded like a rather realistic assessment of the woman’s personality. She was someone who absorbed knowledge like some kind of sponge and did not like it when someone dared to question her skill. Just like he did not like it either. He was a damn good marksman and when someone had the nerve of implying that perhaps, he could be in over his head, it had always annoyed him. He had had his training and he had his experience and when he said that he could hit a target, he said it because it was true. Only a complete moron would endanger an assignment and colleagues by bragging about nonexistent skills and he was not that much of a reckless asshole, he was not going to risk his team.

“Huh,” Silver said as he downed his whiskey, checking his wristwatch. It was not particularly late – barely past two in the morning – but he really did not want to spend the rest of the time until the next appointment in a bar with his partner. “It’s getting late,” he said, lying smoothly because he had always been a damn good liar. “I’ll go for a walk and then, I’ll head home.”

“Heartfilia takes care of your son, right?” Clive asked as he chewed his cheese with an unreadable expression on his face. “That’s probably good – she knows how to handle kids.”

“Implication that I don’t know it?” the dark-haired man asked with a frown, feeling nearly insulted by those words although he knew that they were probably true.

“No offense but right now? You’re on the same level as Ur and she made a kid cry last week, just by looking at it,” Clive said with a shrug as he sighed deeply. “Look, you’ll go for your walk, I’ll cover your bill.”

Silver felt a rare feeling of gratitude dwelling up inside of him because it was obvious that in his own, rather clumsy way, his partner was trying to help him, to let him know that the team was still there for him – not that he had ever doubted it. For a group that consisted out of two geniuses and one combat specialist, they were sometimes really stupid.

But so he left the bar and strolled through town, not caring where his feet were carrying him. If he would get into a fight, that would be fine by him and he was certain that he could take on whoever was stupid enough to mess with him. However, his feet did not bring him into the bad part of town, no, he ended up right in front of the headquarters and with a sigh, he entered. The office was dark as he came in and he did not switch on the light as he crossed the room, making his way to his desk. Therefore, he was rather surprised when he suddenly heard the sound of someone moving on the couch. There were not many people who could sneak up on him. There were even less people who could be in the same room without being noticed when he was not deliberately ignoring them.

Reaching for the knife in his desk – some paranoia was good in this field of work – he switched on the lamp in front of him and relaxed. It was just Lund who had fallen asleep on the couch which sometimes happened.

He rolled his eyes as he reached for a report that someone had dropped off on his desk as it required a signature – but then, he heard the funniest sound in quite some time. Ur Lund, the resident Ice Queen of ECID, was talking in her sleep. Not that he understood much, she was mumbling but this would make amazing blackmail material. And it was nearly hilarious.

But this was not the moment to tease her about this because it had been a long week for all of them and even if he wanted to, there was no silly comment in his head for now.

Signing another report, he did not notice the shift until she was standing right in front of him, her jacket crooked and her hair dishevelled. If Ur Lund had ever looked like a mess, now would have been the time but then, compared to others, she maintained her natural grace. He had seen her covered in blood and other unspeakable things so maybe he should just get used to the idea that nothing on this planet could make her look unattractive. Which might be a major plus for them all, one day.

“Slept well?” he asked as he yawned, peering over to the couch.

“Of course,” she replied drily as she rolled her shoulders, an uneasy expression on her face. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”

“…were you hoping to avoid me?” he asked as his teeth gritted. He did not understand her and the doubted that he actually wanted to because there was something distinctly twisted about her and the way no one would suspect that she was something like the dwarf-sized powerhouse of the team. Clive had reminded him of the fact that she had combat training, too, and so he was slightly wary of her. Especially considering that he had taken her place.

“I don’t avoid people, I avoid conflict,” she replied as she averted her gaze, “and I guess that you want to hear that I did avoid you.”

“What makes you think this?” he asked.

“You wouldn’t have assumed it, otherwise,” she said as she shrugged, a mask of nonchalance covering up something else. “Anyway, I’ll be downstairs for a second, I need to get something.”

He was not sure how she managed not to show softness now, how she managed to be the same as usual – he just knew that he appreciated that she did not ask any questions. Other people had asked, had wanted to know how he was feeling and they had implied that it was not right that he was being okay.

(It was not like he was feeling _magnificent_ but it was okay and for now, this was enough.)

“Okay,” he said as he shrugged briefly, wondering what exactly she was up to this time.

“Don’t you dare steal my couch,” she said as she smoothed out wrinkles of her jacket and headed for the door – and he realised that he had not asked what she was doing at the office this late but then, it was her life and he was not her caretaker.

On the other hand, stealing the couch sounded like a good idea. Sure, there were places that were actually meant for them to sleep at but it was commonly agreed upon that the couch was the most comfortable place. The red one, only. The blue couch came with something that turned a human spine into a mess.

He knew that he should not be doing this. She had been there first and she had pointed out – _explicitly_ – that she planned on sleeping more which implied that she was too tired to drive herself home. This had not happened before when he had been on the same shift as she had been but he had met her on the stairs a few times when she had been leaving and he had just arrived for another day of paperwork.

But he was tired. It had been a long day for him and he needed rest, whether he wanted to acknowledge this fact or not. And there was the couch. And he would just take a short nap – she could have it back when she returned from her errand and that would likely take a while.

The decision was made the moment his back touched the couch because he was out cold half a second later – or so it felt.

He woke up what felt like two minutes later when the door to the office closed with a loud click and for a moment, he stared into the darkness. He slept lightly, he always had since the war, and for a moment, he stared and listened into the darkness, unable to make out someone or something because there was no movement within the room so whoever was there was had either left already or was standing absolutely still. Then, he heard a sigh and light footsteps and he relaxed because there was no reason to worry that she would actually kill him for taking the couch.

“I can’t believe that nerve,” she muttered as she moved through the complete darkness, passing him as her foot got caught up in the jacket he had thrown onto the ground. For a moment, the room was bright because of a car that passed the park in the distance and he could see what was happening. As her usual reflexes were not as sharp as they were when she was less tired, Agent Lund was swaying and she was doomed to fall. And for a moment, he knew how this was going to play out: she would fall onto him and judging from the _‘oh holy shit, no’-_ expression on her face, she knew this as well.

Now, he could have been nice. He could have reacted in time, he could have caught her and spared her the embarrassment that was to headed her way. But he did not want to. It was so rare for her to mess up like this that it was a seemingly good idea to just let it happen.

So maybe he was not the kind of teammate the others deserved but there he was and they were stuck with him until he would either leave or until he was reassigned.

She fell in silence, her face caught between _‘oh fuck no’_ and some kind of resignation, of acceptance that she could not avoid this fate, cruel as it might turn out to be.

Aside from a little huff, there was no sound from her as gravity caused her to land – not exactly softly – on his back and there was a short moment in which he expected her to curse because this could impossibly have been a pleasant experience for her but against his expectations, she remained silent before she rolled onto her side and made a genuine attempt on _pushing him off the couch._

For a second, he was taken aback because he had expected her to be more considerate towards him as he had lost his ex-wife. It was not like he expected more sensitiveness from his co-workers (and he dreaded it, even) but he had not expected her to be this insistent on the goddamn red couch.

But he would not be Silver Fullbuster if he would let a tiny little woman kick him off the couch. Quite the opposite, actually. If she really wanted to have this couch, she was going to have to fight him over it.

“I swear to god, Fullbuster,” she hissed into his ear as her foot connected with his ribs in a manner that was nearly painful, “this is my couch. You can have the blue one, really.”

* * *

**and i don't want to go home right now**

* * *

 

She knew that he was awake. She was not stupid and she was pretty sure that even if he had not snapped awake the moment she had returned, he would have waken up when she had fallen onto him. She was not stupid and that he seriously seemed to think that she would let him get away with this was _insulting_ in her opinion. And she wanted this couch because she wanted to wake up well-rested and ready to tackle what was coming for her and she did not want to feel like she had slept on the floor.

“You went away,” he muttered, just as she was thinking about ramming her knee into his side, “and you know what they say, right?”

“I know what they say in kindergarten,” she snapped as she crossed her arms, jabbing him in the movement because she could hardly see a thing, “but this is what they call real life.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he huffed and this time, it was no accident that her elbow connected with his ribs. “I guess that’s why no one dates you … the bruises wouldn’t be worth it.”

She rolled her eyes as she remained silent for a moment, gathering her wits for a fitting reply. If she was another person, she would have been offended, would perhaps even thrown a minor fit at what he had just said. But she had been told things far worse, far more cruel along the years and so she did not even care what he was saying. Or this was what she tried to tell herself, there was a weird sensation in her stomach for a moment but she preferred not to think about this right now.

(Lately, all her thoughts led her to places where she did not want to go.)

“Are you plotting my death or have you fallen asleep?” he asked after a moment and there was a twinge of amusement in his voice. “Because if you sleep, please take note that it is your leg that is on my back.”

She somehow succeeded in not snorting at him but she moved her leg before she replied. “I don’t think that plotting your death would make it on my agenda,” she said drily as she moved her hand, trying to get a hold on the lever that allow her to retreat – in case that she wanted to surrender – with some dignity in place.

“…that’s my head,” he commented and he sounded like he was slightly confused. “What on _earth_ are you trying to do right now?”

“…do you plan to get up?” she asked as she resigned to the fact that her arms were too short and the lever was in an angle she could not reach it even if her arms were considerably longer.

“I see no reason to,” he said and although she could not see his face, she had seen enough of his smirks to know that it had to nearly tear apart his face at this point. “I got the red couch and someone very pretty next to me.”

 _“Moron,”_ she muttered but she stilled her movements because it was more or less common knowledge that she was extraordinarily agreeable when she was tired enough and right now, she doubted that she was capable of doing even a single report without falling asleep.

“I got called worse,” he said and then, there was one of the odd breaks he sometimes made in the middle of a small speech, the breaks she had not been able to assign a meaning to. “Which reminds me, Bambi, shouldn’t you be freaking out or something like that right now?”

She snorted as she shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable position. “I’m an agent,” she said as she braced her arm against his back, “and not some dainty little princess. Believe me, as far as uncomfortable sleeping arrangements go, this one doesn’t even make it into the TopTen for me.”

“What on earth did make it into the TopTen?” he asked, his voice betraying his fatigue and she smirked into the darkness at the idea of telling him a goodnight story.

“There was, of course, the Crocus assignment – the one that nearly got me killed,” she started as she suppressed a yawn. “The apartment we were staying at was mouldy. That’s how I learned that I am allergic to mould, by the way. Anyway, it was freezing cold and there was just that one couch. To be honest, the floor was more comfortable. I was so happy when we finally go out of there.”

“Assassination assignment?” he asked and she just nodded because she had never liked this type of job but sometimes, it had been necessary and she had handled it when she had had to because she had been better at keeping the necessary emotional distance than most people she had met. This was why she had been called the Ice Queen in the first place.

“Yes,” she confirmed as she mused how long it would take before she would forget about all of this, until this time would no longer be engraved into her muscle memory. “Not my favourite type of work, to be honest.”

“You didn’t strike me as a wet work person,” he said and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh?” she asked as she sighed deeply. “So you’d have guessed that Gildarts sat on a roof for hours and waited patiently for the target to come into sight?”

“If you put it that way, yeah, I can see that you were the one with the rifle,” he said but there seemed to be some kind of hesitation in his voice. “But I don’t think you are still that person. I mean – we all change.”

She was silent for a moment as she counted her breaths the way Layla had taught her to when she had once mentioned that she sometimes had nightmares and relived the less glorious moments of her past. “You know,” she said as she felt like she could reply to this statement without losing herself in this weird mixture of guilt and disappointment she had grown far too familiar with along the years, “I am a big believer in practice what you preach.”

Which was why she had gone out there, why she had returned to the field. There had been fears inside of her, fears she had hated and she had had seen no other way but to tackle them. She had not told anyone of the team about it but she was relearning how to be a field agent again – not just because she thought it was laughable that the highest ranking agent was the one who just drove the car and led the interrogations without doing much else.

“No surprise there,” he said as he chuckled. “You seem to be the type for it, no offense.”

“If you have been stuck with Gil for as long as I have, you realise that you need to live up to what you preach,” she said as she shrugged, “because if you don’t, he loses respect for you.”

“Lemme guess, you keep telling everyone to face fears and all that stuff,” he said and she nodded, ever so slightly. “Which is why you have spent extra hours down on the range and filed a request for a partner of your own.”

For a moment, she was nearly speechless because she had been damn sure that she had covered up her tracks but then, someone from her team had had to sign the forms on how much time the field agents within the team had spent downstairs in the shooting cinema, training and improving. As for the partner thing, she had no clue how he had gotten this knowledge because she had been extraordinarily careful.

“How do you know?” she asked as her eyes narrowed – not that anyone could see this.

“About the shooting range thing? Redfox let it slip the last time I was there and when I had to sign the forms, your name popped up a lot more than I would have expected it to,” he said with a shrug that ended with his shoulder hitting her chin. “The partner thing? C’mon, we all know that you love paperwork but _that_ much?”

She huffed as she shifted her weight, getting away from that dangerous shoulder of his. “You know,” she said as she hesitated for a moment, “I’d be _happy_ if you wouldn’t tell Gil about it.”

She would be more than just happy, of course. She would feel horrible if her ex-partner would know that she had gone behind his back to get a new partner of her own. She had plans to tell him about it but she would do no such thing until she was sure that he was ready for this.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked as he laughed and she was very tempted to kick him off the couch for that comment and the laughter.

“You know, better than most people, that I am not dating him,” she said with a huff as she wondered when exactly her non-existent love life had become the centre of far too many jokes and sometimes even serious conversations which was probably even scarier.

“True,” he admitted, “but it is hilarious to see your reaction, you see?”

“…that’s stupid,” she sighed as she wondered what the appropriate way to continue was. On the other hand, it was probably far too late to keep this on an appropriate level. If she was less tired, she might have cared but not right now because in this very moment, she had other things she had to attend to.

“I get the vibe that you mind it a lot more than you’d ever willingly admit,” he said as he hesitated for a moment. “What’s the reason for that?”

“It reminds me,” she said after a moment, pressing her lips together to hold in another sigh. “Most interesting men I meet are either suspects or co-workers.”

“Oh c’mon, there has to be a board field for you to pick from,” he said and she raised her eyebrow. “Seriously, I’m pretty sure behind your back, Clive is _battling_ your suitors.”

“First of all – no one says suitors, these days,” she said as she frowned. “Secondly, I would hate him for doing that and he knows it. And lastly – could you move over a little? I kinda struggle to breathe over here.”

“I doubt that this couch is seriously big enough for two people,” he said, sounding a little doubtful. “Maybe one of us should surrender.”

“And when did either of us learn to surrender?” she asked as she rolled her eyes, briefly musing when she had had this sort of discussion the last time. Perhaps when she had been in Hargeon for an assignment with a newcomer to NAHA and there had been just one bed. The thing was that she did not consider sharing one sleeping space as especially intimate or even romantic. Human beings needed sleep and they slept better when they had a decent bed. She knew of course that even Ivan would roll his eyes at this cold and scientific sober approach but this was why she was not _asking_ him about it.

“This is an excellent question, Bambi,” he said and there was a certain vibe of hesitation in his voice. “I actually think we both fail at that.”

“I don’t like giving up,” she admitted as she closed her eyes. “It always feels like I admit failure. They say, that’s why I can’t put things to rest … because they never end in my head.”

He snorted and then, she felt a hand on her head. “You know, you ramble a lot when you are tired, Lund,” he said and sounded like he was rolling his eyes. “So you better sleep.”

“You should sleep, too,” she said as she rested her head against his shoulder. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“If you’d stop talking, I’d be able to sleep,” he said, still sounding like he was rolling his eyes. “And no, I don’t mind. I would have said so, otherwise. Also, I doubt that anyone would mind your head on his shoulder.”

She considered to reply but then, she decided that she had fallen asleep minutes ago and that it was time to honour that fact and finally rest. There was a long week ahead of them, after all, and she would need all the sleep she could get because from what she had heard, the boss was going away for a few days and that spelled trouble. 

* * *

**'cause it hurts to remember**

* * *

Ur was handling her reports with the same ease as usual while Fullbuster sat by his desk, staring outside with a thoughtful expression on his face. Gildarts stopped in the door for a moment before he smiled and nodded, approaching his own desk as Ur lifted her gaze and smiled back at him, dropping her pen as she stretched. “Good that you’re here,” she said as she got up. “I was about to check up on Redfox; he wanted me to check something out.”

“It’s okay,” he said as he slumped down on his desk, “but please remind me, Ur, that I need to ask you for a favour when you get back.”

She left without much of a precise explanation and he sighed as he reached into his drawer and put the knife he had accidentally confiscated from her last week into the box where he kept all the other ones he had stolen along the years. Sometimes, he wondered why she kept buying new ones instead of just asking him to give her knives back to him.

“Lund is in high demand, lately,” Fullbuster remarked as he sipped on his coffee, stirring more sugar into it. It had become a joke among the team a few weeks ago that the field specialist added a lot of sugar to it when Ur who was something akin to a coffee purist had accidentally taken a sip and declared that this coffee had to be kept away from her because otherwise, she would likely lose her ability to taste something with her tongue.

“No surprise there, actually,” Gildarts sighed as he went through the reports on his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Her last evaluations came back – she’s in the form of a lifetime.”

Not that this made him happy. It was quite the opposite. This sudden improvement implied that Ur had been working hard on her physical shape and while he had to commend her on this effort, it also meant that she was stressing about over something and was trying to compensate for this stress by getting it out of her system. They all had ways to get rid of emotional stress and while Gildarts had used to arrange a few more dates – to sleep around, as Ur would have said – she had always been the one to spend more time in the gym.

“Isn’t that good news?” his partner asked, awfully calm and nearly a bit too stoic for Gildarts’ immediate comfort.

“Not when she overexerts herself,” he huffed as he leaned back in his chair, stretching as he reached for his own cup of coffee. “Anyway, we got a meeting with the boss in … half an hour. I hope she is back ‘till then.”

He did not like the vibe in the headquarters today. On his way to his office, he had seen Grandine Marvell on her way back to her working place after a briefing with the substitute director – Babasama was on a congress in Crocus for the next two weeks – and although the woman had too much of a temper to be considered representative for all the agents working in headquarters, Gildarts had a very bad feeling about all of this and he truly hoped that whatever was happening would not influence his team – although this was likely a pointless wish; whatever had upset Marvell would likely get to Ur as well and this would make the catastrophe perfect.

Gildarts had been through a lot of superior connected drama, especially with Dreyar and Ur involved because they both had yet to learn when it was wiser to keep the mouth shut and to choke down the anger raging inside of them.

“Babasama left town last night, didn’t she?” his partner asked as he stirred yet another spoonful of sugar into his coffee, something that made Gildarts want to sigh.

“She did, yes,” he confirmed as he locked the results of the physical evaluations into his desk. He took discretion very serious and this had many reasons. For one, he would not want the results of his own tests to become public knowledge and secondly – he felt responsible for his team and the little secrets their physical tests would give away if someone looked close enough at them.

There was a moment of silence and then, they both went back to their respective reports and for a few minutes, the only sound in the room was the steady scratching of papers against the paper while summer winds let the leaves twirl around in front of the windows.

“Ouch,” Ur muttered as she returned, rubbing her upper arm. “Marvell really packs quite a punch.”

Gildarts felt his soul sigh. He had mentioned her dangerous attitude mere minutes ago and it seemed like she had gone out of her way to prove him right. “Marvell isn’t scared of you,” he said and for the first time in a while, he found himself relieved that there was someone aside from him who did not play along to every whim of his ex-partner. And Grandine Marvell was infamous for not playing nicely with anyone because she was a hurricane trapped in the body of a young woman.

“I noticed,” she huffed as she stretched, hissing softly when something hurt. “Anyway, the agenda says that we got to check in with the _boss_ … my, that’s going to be fun.”

Gildarts knew what she was talking about; she was painfully aware that most people would say that she did not play well with others. If he thought about it, it was almost confusing that she seemed to make a genuine attempt on working in a team this time around rather than to pull rank on all of them to gain the greatest amount of liberties one could have. And Ur knew that the attitude of the past years had not exactly caused her to have many friends within the force. But this was, currently, not Gildarts’ problem.

“Try to be nice,” he told her as he smiled thinly.

“Will try,” she said as she straightened her blouse and reached for her uniform jacket, doing her best to appear immaculate and well-dressed. “Who’s filling in for the director this time around, anyway?”

“Time to find out,” Fullbuster said as he briefly reached out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You gotta look presentable for the boss, whoever it may be, Bambi.”

“And you should cut back the Bambiism,” she replied as she nodded ever so slightly. There was no aggression in her voice, she had rarely appeared to be this grounded. “Anyway, it is time to face the music, right?”

“Yes,” Gildarts confirmed as he cracked his knuckles and nervously toyed around with the tie he was only wearing because they were going to see the boss and because making a good first impression could be the make-or-break in this relationship. “Some help here, please?” he muttered as he mused why on earth he was not wearing a bowtie – he could handle them without a problem.

“Oh, c’mon, Gil,” Ur sighed as she stepped over to him, undoing the disaster of a knot to tie it correctly. “What would you do without me?”

“I would live by the beach, a happy life in retirement,” he replied, smirking at her poisonous glare. “Do I look good for the boss?”

“I wouldn’t date you,” she said grimly as a smirk played around her lips, “but I guess it’s true what they all say, you do clean up nicely, Gil. Fullbuster, if you aren’t wearing a tie, please button up your shirt properly.”

Their medical examiner had been right when he had started to call her mom, Gildarts mused as he rested one hand on her arm as he led her out of the office, his partner trailing behind. They took the stairs as usual because they were all field agents and sometimes, narrow spaces made Gildarts feel very uncomfortable. Not enough space to move, not enough room to fight seriously in case that the need arose and he had been part of too many agencies in the business to ever lower his guard, even when he was in an agency’s headquarters.

“…hey, Ur,” he said as they approached the heavy doors, a smirk on his face. “Let me handle the talking, yes? We want a good new assignment and surely no stakeouts.”

She rolled her eyes before she patted his shoulder. “No worries, Gildarts,” she said as she straightened her spine, trying to appear a little taller than she actually was. “I’m nearly convinced that I’ll hate every moment of this, anyway, so you can handle this.”

He smiled as he knocked and then, when he opened the door and she took a step backwards, staggering against Fullbuster who seemed to be confused by her reaction, he realised that this decision had been the right one because although he stood more than a metre away from her, he could feel her seething anger. It was rolling away from her in mighty waves and he knew, he just knew that this was not going to be easy.

The last time, Gildarts had had the questionable honour of meeting Agent Zirconis Jade, Ur had held him on gunpoint, forcing him to step down and let her handle what had been, at the time, their business as agents of NAHA. Now, the man was sitting in Director Babasama’s chair and it did not take a genius to figure out that the man with the bright green hair had not forgotten about this incident.

“Agents,” he greeted with a smug smirk on his face. “Just on time.”

Ur muttered something under her breath and while Gildarts could not understand it, it made his partner grin and this alone told him that it was probably for the better that he had not been able to catch her latest outburst.

“Agent Jade,” he replied as he briefly nodded at the man, feeling – not for the first time – how his soul sighed. “You wanted to see us?”

The man’s smug facial expression turned nearly dangerous as he spun around in his chair – this time, Gildarts caught Ur’s hissed ‘brat’ – and stopped to look at the three agents with a pensive expression on his face. “I heard about the … unfortunate outcome of the last field operation you three had,” he said before he turned to look at Ur, “well, Agent Lund did not really participate in it, did she? You remained in the car … _pfft_.”

“I secured the exit, in case the mark had escaped,” she replied sharply, her speech pattern slipping back in what it had been like when she had been an agent of NAHA and people had been marks rather than suspects. “This is common ECID protocol … _sir_.”

It was no secret that Ur acknowledged authority and that most superiors were aware of this so most of the time, she did not have to underline her respect by using ‘sir’ or ‘madam’ and when she did, it had often a sarcastic touch to it and this was why people kept saying that she had a tongue like a knife, sometimes.

“And the mark, as you put it, did not suffer a mysterious accident yet?” the green-haired man asked and this made Gildarts want to throw a punch because it was not _fair_. Of course it would have been possible. Hell, even Fullbuster could have made it look like an accident but the point was that the implication was uttered so casually that it drove the air out of Gildarts’ lungs. All of them would have had the occasion, all of them would have had some sort of reason to kill the man. Fullbuster because his ex-wife had been the victim. Ur because she had never been one to take kindly to either violence against civilians or pointless revenge. And Gildarts because he had always had a dangerous tendency to go with the flow and because he could have been trapped in Fullbuster’s rage. Nonetheless, this did not justify the question. At all.

“No, sir,” Gildarts said as his fists clenched by his sides. “Unless, of course, we are supposed to understand this as an order. I am certain that we could arrange something for you.”

It was a dangerous game he was playing but he had never been one for careful created plans with so many levels and backup ideas that sometimes, he had felt a little dizzy. He had always preferred the straightforward approach and if it was necessary that it would be possible to kill wannabe Director Jade in at least two-hundred different ways by just using the things on his desk, well, Gildarts could do that.

“This won’t be necessary,” the other man said as he held out a folder. “Babasama insisted that I give this assignment to you rather than to Marvell and Vastia … she said that Agent Lund is better at playing the rich, bored wife.”

Gildarts snorted. He remembered previous occasions when Ur had been forced to slip back into the role she had never filled because she had decided to forge her own destiny. While she could pull it off – all pearls and silk, it was highly entertaining because she loathed every second of it and she was not the type of person to hide something like this.

“I don’t do boredom,” she replied sharply as she grabbed the folder, “and – with all due respect – I think that since this is my playground you send us onto, I should design the cover.”

Gildarts grinned, now, because this was the Ur he had worked with for so many years that it was a minor miracle that he could still count how many times she had delivered her trademark line for him getting in trouble – “how many more near death experiences do you want before you learn to think before you act?” – and yet, he was happy to see her old spark back in her eyes even though he was not oblivious to the price she had paid for this.

“You do not have the authorities to construct a cover, agent,” Jade said and Gildarts’ fist urned with the wish to break the man’s nose because this would genuinely made his day.

“She is Level 5,” Fullbuster said drily as he crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly displeased by the situation as well – not that Gildarts could blame him, Jade was an _annoyance_. And the way he generally treated female agents was disgusting. People like Marvell or Ur would not have gotten to their current ranks if they had not worked hard for it. Not-so-secretly Gildarts wished for the moment Jade would return to whatever headquarters he was currently tyrannising because the day this finally happened, everything would be back to normal – or to what they commonly understood to be normal again and while Babasama was harsh, she was fair.

“But Clive is Level 6 and he is _technically_ —“ Jade stopped himself as he raised an eyebrow. “My, good ol’ Babasama really took a risk with this team, didn’t she? And now she doesn’t want Lund to ruin it.”

Ur snorted, her gaze trained onto the assignment profile in her hands. “Thank you for this vote of confidence,” she muttered as she briefly looked up, a smug smirk playing around her lips. “We will develop a strategy for this task.”

“You better hurry,” Jade said with a smirk that rivalled her own, “because you want to enjoy the beach as much as you can, correct?”

The woman’s face betrayed that she was not looking forward to the beach at all. Born and raised in the north in her family’s vast estate, she had never been much of a fan of beaches. Her skin burned easily and made it necessary for her to remain in the shadows or covered.

But this assignment was likely the closest they would get to an actual vacation until winter came around and so Gildarts was certain that she was going to accept this part, focusing on the bigger picture – as usual.

And god knew how much they all needed to relax on the beach for a few days, sipping some drinks while pretending to be completely normal tourists although they were likely handling reconnaissance for some other agency, perhaps even NAHA. It would not be the first time for them to briefly end up on another agency’s payroll and so far, it had always ended well.


	9. ix.

  _ **xi.**_

* * *

 

**if you open up your mind**

* * *

 

The airport was busy, even in the early hours of the morning. Ur pursed her lips as she pushed the cart through the crowd, her badge in her hand. There were advantages of being a law enforcement officer and privileged luggage rights were certainly one of those perks. Handing over two suitcases and flashing her badge before she disappeared in another crowd, she tightened her grip on her handbag and strolled to the meeting point.

“Morning, Ur,” Gildarts yawned as he looked at her over the rim of his sunglasses, tired eyes sparkling not half as much as usual. “So explain why we are taking the earliest plane, again?”

She smiled as she smoothed an invisible wrinkle out of her silken blouse. “Isn’t it obvious?” she asked as she returned her badge to her handbag. “We take the early flight so that we can have authentic dinner.”

This was not the truth, of course. She had done a lot of crazy things throughout her career but she had never scheduled an assignment around a meal, not even in that one horrible summer when she had struggled with her body image and had tried to diet which had failed because there were things one could do while being on stakeout – reading, gaining knowledge – but she had yet to meet an agent who was disciplined enough not to steal the partner’s fries.

“Tell me that you are kidding,” Gildarts muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Of course I am,” she said in an amiable way as she rested her hand on his biceps, looking around carefully, searching the crowd for the missing members of their newly assembled team. She was not too sure what she was supposed to think about the addition they had been _granted_ although no one had asked for it.

“You are a cruel woman,” he said as he sighed deeply as he leaned against a pillar, a yawn escaping him. “Did you wrap up your cover story yet? Or are we just winging it, as usual?”

If her glare had not been enough to inform him that she was sure as hell not ‘winging it’, the mere idea was completely ridiculous. She did not just improvise because half of the time, it was far easier to just follow instructions. “Not with me in the lead,” she said as she sighed deeply. This assignment required to go undercover to the point that they would reach the bottom of it all and this was terrifying because it meant to temporarily give up the usual identity and she had not done this in a while.

“Boring,” he muttered, his lips forming a grin as he spotted Fullbuster and the newest newcomer coming toward them. “So, you wrote our cover story, then?”

“ECID does not hire failed authors to come up with stories just so we can do it ourselves,” she replied as she crossed her arms, her left hand coming to rest on her bag where she kept the folders she had received last night from headquarters. “So we need to see what we got.”

“Preach it,” he said as he dragged her along towards the both other men. “So, you got all your business taken care of?”

“Gray’s staying with Layla while I am gone,” Fullbuster said as he stared at his feet. Ur briefly mused that he was likely not entirely okay with the whole situation, not that anyone could actually blame him. It had to be stressful and also highly complicated for his son. It had been less than two weeks since the funeral and there was no way that Gray had finally started to comprehend what had happened.

She did not remember a time in her life when she had not understood the meaning of life and she had to admire a young child that was still so innocent that his eyes simply did not see the ugly truth. She still felt sorry for him – not knowing was rarely a bliss and usually a curse.

“Very well,” the newcomer – a tall man called Weisslogia Eucliffe – said as he bowed his head. From the way he carried himself and the fact that he had been added to their team after his stint in the taskforce that usually dealt with kidnapping, Ur had been able to conclude that Eucliffe was one of Grandine Marvell’s friends.

“Time for boarding,” Gildarts said as he turned his gaze towards the both men. “Ur got the official cover story … I hope no one has to play someone else’s lover.”

Ur grimaced because given that the crew in charge for the cover stories was conservative as hell, she would likely end up in such a fake couple and she was not exactly happy with the idea because nothing good had ever come out of this sort of thing and she had heard of far too many good friendships that had been ruined over some silly misunderstanding during such a assignment and she was not going to add any of her friendships to this list.

“I don’t hope so,” she said quietly as they passed the last control, their names on the list of the airline for passengers that should better be not controlled too closely.

“…we got first class seats?” the newcomer asked and Ur nearly rolled her eyes because yes, of course they had first class seats. They were going to pretend that they were awfully rich and awfully bored and so they had to act the rich part – the boredom would kick in soon enough, probably once the first rush was gone and the realisation that nothing was happening kicked in.

“Eucliffe,” she said as she smirked at him, “welcome to the rich and famous – enjoy your stay.”

She had been, once upon a time, happy when she had finally been able to rebel, to get out of the cage she had been kept in since she had been born but years of life experience had taught her that no matter how easy it had been to pay for university as she had had both a scholarship and the ability to stay in one of her family’s apartments, it was nice not to have to worry over money – especially when there was a lot of other stuff on her plate, like the deadlines and reports. Nowadays, she touched the money her family paid her which was ironically the money that was made with the business branches that were still firmly in her grandparents’ hands. Sometimes, it was problematic for her to justify this but when it was to stock up the budget her team had for a assignment that required them all to look rich, it seemed to be a good investment, in her opinion.

Looking over her shoulder as she sunk into the comfortable first class seat, she smirked as she saw the expression of utter fatigue on Fullbuster’s face while Eucliffe muttered something she could not quite understand. The rest of her team had been able to understand that the assignment required some kind of casual disguise and like every woman in ECID she knew, her weakness for men in suits had faded slightly as she had become exposed to it on daily basis but then, there was a difference between men in suits and men in nice, well-fitting suits and right now, she was confronted with the latter and this was very much okay by her because she had nearly gotten used to the first type.

A part of her wanted to claim that this was unfair on her, that she had done absolutely nothing to deserve this, to deserve being trapped for at least a week with a group of men who were all wearing nice suits. Hopefully, she mused, they would not wear them when they had to go out to mingle with the other people in town because that would look ridiculous.

On the other hand, she certainly hoped that this new dressing habit would make its way into their daily routine so she would get to see it more frequently because the outfits some agents wore in headquarters were horrifying and she was more than just slightly done with it. And it was about time the scenery would improve again – she had seen enough ill-fitting uniforms to last her a lifetime and she was certain that most women agreed with her there.

“Jewel for your thoughts?” Gildarts asked as he sat down next to her, a smirk in place.

“You know that a mere jewel would never be enough for a thought of mine,” she replied as she rolled her shoulders, reaching into her bag to pull out the thin folders containing their cover story. “Anyway,” she continued, deciding to distract him, “this is what we are going to be the moment the plane lands.”

“Dianthus, huh?” he muttered as he opened the folder, a frown on his face. “We do have to be in a goddamn rich people holiday town, of course. That’s going to be hilarious.”

“We will be fine,” she replied as she stretched, passing the both remaining files on to the men behind them. “C’mon, Gil, we always are.”

“Yeah,” he said as the frown on his face deepened, “because we have worked uncover missions like this a million times before. Eucliffe specialises in kidnapping and Fullbuster—”

“I know,” she replied as she scanned the little black letters, “so it seems like we are all friends who are very bored – look, you have a girl back home, Gildarts – or should I say _William_?”

“Oh, c’mon, Ur,” he started before he stopped himself, peering down into the file in his lap, and smirked. “The team that developed this cover story really got to hate you, Ur.”

She pressed her lips together and sighed as she looked at the name that would be hers for the durance of the assignment. “I had worse aliases,” she said with a shrug. “And I mean –it looks like I am supposed to pretend to be from the North. So a name with northern origin certainly makes sense for me.”

“But still,” he said as he looked up from his smartphone that he was supposed to turn off, “a name with the meaning of ‘bride’? For the woman who forsake her last chance to be one? That seems kinda cruel to me.”

She sighed deeply. The memory was not necessarily a good one but she was over it. This was maybe her strength, that she did not always cling to what was part of the past. She was over her ex-fiancé and she was happy with being single because she had no longer to worry how her actions could influence someone who claimed to love her. Bane had always sighed in disapproval when she had come back with some bruises, unable to comprehend that she was no one who hid from danger.

“Make a constant joke out of it,” she finally said as she stuffed the file back into her bag. “If I make the word my own, it can’t hurt me.”

This was how she had proceeded after she had been called ice queen for the very first time. It had been meant to be an insult, uttered by someone who loathed her, but she had not cared about this. She had decided that she would find the compliment in the insult and so these days, it stood for something else, for her ability to focus on the task at hand without allowing herself to be distracted because her mind was colder than ice when she was working.

“You sure about that?” he asked as the plane lifted itself into the air. “But I can do that, really – making jokes out of technically serious situations is kinda my thing, Frosty.”

“Isn’t that exactly why you are here right now?” she asked as she rested her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes. “That you are good at charming your way into other people’s hearts?”

“Unless they are made of ice,” he replied with a wink and she jabbed her elbow into his side before she allowed herself to slip into unconsciousness.

* * *

**new to town with a made up name**

* * *

 

 Dianthus had once been a small, sleepy city by the sea. Then, thirty years ago, the wife of a rich merchant had declared it to be the place to spend a vacation and ever since, nothing had been the same. Gildarts sometimes claimed that he had been spending his holidays in this town before it had been cool and this was true, his grandparents had lived there and he had been there for the vacations. Not that he could actually remember much, he had been a little child. Nonetheless, he had always disapproved of the way rich people acted when it came to attractive places that were currently _en vogue_ and yet, he was there, sitting in the car they had rented on the way to the holiday home that probably belonged to one of Ur’s rich people friends.

“There is an upside in this,” Ur said as she checked the navigation device, “it has been far too long since I could play golf and call it a part of the job.”

Gildarts remembered the last time she had played golf well because right afterwards, the target had realised that someone this precise and disciplined was likely more than just another rich girl and had cornered her in the locker room. The outcome had been bloody but Ur had won although the man had not lived.

(His fault for trying to take on an agent who was one of the best with nothing but a golf club in his hand.)

“You play golf?” Eucliffe asked as he frowned at her and Gildarts sighed because this was so typical. People on the kidnapping taskforce were used to rich people because of the professional aspect. There were always kidnappings that targeted the offspring of a rich couple and so they were all used to people who had more money than brain but they all forgot that there were a few people within ECID who had more than enough money to retire.

“It’s a sport, isn’t it?” Ur asked nonchalantly as they drove up a hill. “And well, I made a point out of having a rough grasp on most types of sports … it is sometimes necessary.”

And once upon a time, it had been a matter of pride. There was no way for her to cheat in something physical. There was no way she could count something that would tell her how she was supposed to move. Or even if the calculation was possible, she still needed to have the strength and the flexibility to actually pull it off. And this was likely what she liked so much about it, why she worked so hard on her physical performance. And because she did not like to lose. At all.

“So … we are basically pretending to be just another group of rich people who are friends and scout out the area,” Fullbuster said as he crossed his arms, a frown on his face. He did not look happy but then, it was a good question if he had ever appeared to be happy since Gildarts had met him and the martial art expert was convinced that the answer was no.

“We have a specific mark, too,” Ur said as she looked into the rear-view mirror and smiled. “The thing is just – we are supposed to confirm a suspicion, we are not supposed to take action.”

Her voice contained the same regret Gildarts felt as well. It was usually nicer to get the information and to proceed accordingly. Sometimes, it was by taking out a threat, other times it was by arresting someone. In his favourite cases, it was by foiling someone’s plan and slipping back into the night. And when luck was on his side, he even got to witness the success of his plan. The thing was – Gildarts liked action. He was not one for guns but he was one for direct contact with the target.

People with no respect for law and order wew supposed to know who was the one who had crossed their plans, who was the reason for their prolonged stay in prison. Ur had never understood her mindset, she always slipped back into the collective of agents, she never remained in the spotlights for long.

She scolded him, more often than their former superior had done it, and reminded him that one day, he would catch a bullet because his mouth had been a little too big and he had kept talking about things he knew nothing about.

“So the target isn’t supposed to know that we are keeping an eye on it,” Eucliffe said thoughtfully and Gildarts mused who on earth had thought that it was a good idea to add him to the team. There were other agents who would have made more sense. Even Chres Vastia would have been a better idea because he and Ur had worked together in the past. Or Grandine Marvell who had a nasty temper sometimes but was one hell of an agent when she cared enough about an assignment.

“Yes,” Gildarts confirmed as Ur leaned halfway out of the car to open the gates. “This means we have to act very casual about everything.”

“Oh wonderful,” Fullbuster muttered, sarcasm dripping of his voice. “Because we’re so good at that … it’s not like about everyone who is a regular member of the team has … issues.”

“You shouldn’t generalise,” Ur said sharply as she punched the code into the keyboard before the gate opened soundlessly. “And I got my issues under control, thank you very much.”

“They are still there,” he argued and Gildarts sighed, again, as the car started to move again. There had been a brief moment when he had assumed that they had finally become friends – or whatever Fullbuster had, in the first place – but lately, the situation had been more tense than ever. Ur had been moody and Fullbuster had been grumpy and all in all, it had not been funny to be stuck in the same office as them.

“But I don’t act upon them,” she replied as she gritted her teeth, parking the car and finally turning around to direct her glare at the black-haired man. “Anyway, I’ll go get changed and then, I’ll be by the beach.”

Gildarts raised an eyebrow as she got out of the car only to drag off her suitcases half a minute later and to head towards the car. “…we should have taken ECID’s plane,” he muttered as he followed suit. He wanted to get out of the warm suit he was wearing and to go swimming sounded like a good idea although he would have to call Cornelia first to tell her that they made it to Dianthus safely and in one piece.

“This is an awfully nice place,” Eucliffe declared as he approached the front door. “And it belongs to Agent Lund’s grandparents?”

“Yes,” Gildarts muttered as he stepped through the open door and into something that was probably called an entrance hall. This first room was met by the living room on the left side and the dining room on the right. In the living room – a lot of white, a little blue – one of Ur’s suitcases had been left behind on the couch, likely the one that contained equipment. But Gildarts decided that he would end up checking out the building after he had gotten a room for himself and so he hurried up the stairs. The door to what was probably the master bedroom was closed already and as he heard voices from there, the safest bet was to assume that Ur had taken it and was currently talking to either her grandmother or her grandfather on the phone.

So the martial art specialist sidestepped Eucliffe and took another room, one that had view on the sea because this was what they had come for. Okay, not really. But it had been very long since he had last had a vacation and he was going to try to relax a little during this assignment, especially since it – by definition and briefing – did not contain any combat.

He was just pulling his shirt over his head when a sharp knock on the door was to hear. “Come in, I’m decent,” he called out and without a moment of hesitation, Ur stepped into the room. She had traded the blue blouse and the black skirt she had been wearing earlier against a red dress and had her beach bag under her arm.

“You ready to go?” she asked as she rocked back and forth on her feet. “It’s not too sunny out there and I put on some sunscreen so I should be fine.”

He had his doubts about this but who was he to tell her what she was supposed to do? “Gimme a second – I’ll get a towel,” he said before he stopped himself and turned around, frowning at her. “Towels … where are towels?”

“In your bathroom, likely in the closet there,” she said as she rolled her eyes and leaned against the doorframe. “I made dinner reservations for the town’s yacht club. We should mingle with the other rich people.”

“Shall I quiz you on your disguise?” he asked as he stepped into the bathroom, finding the towels where they were supposed to be. “Name?”

“Siv Vann,” she said and although he did not see her, he knew that she was rolling her eyes again. “My job is being my father’s daughter – wow, that got to be one hell of an interesting profession. Can you imagine that?”

And one that had not been chosen well, in Gildarts’ opinion, because Ur had no reference whatsoever when it came to healthy relationships within a family. Her father talked to her exactly eight minutes each year and was usually busy trying to overthrow his mother. Ur had no idea on how to be a daughter. She had always been her own person before everything else. She had never allowed anyone to reduce her to one of the roles she had picked up along the way and sometimes, he envied her for this because there had been a time when he had not known who he was when he was not an agent. She had always known it and she had fought desperately against any cages people had tried to lock her into – and she had won. Because Frosty was a burning inferno when she had to be and she burned only for herself and she did not burn to keep anyone else warm.

“No,” he said, entirely honest. “But you know, you aren’t Ursea Cara Lund right now. You are Siv Vann who had a father who loves her, who wants her to be his successor one day.”

Sometimes, he mused, as he followed her down the stairs and out of the house and down the way that led him to the beach, it was difficult to imagine a world in which he had never met Ur, in which he had not been assigned to be her partner in biology. She had been there the first time he had ever been heartbroken, the day he had realised that he and the first love of his life would never work out properly. She had been there, she had listened to him as he had rambled on and on about how sad it made him to think that one day, he would forget about all the little fights he and Camille had had because he would find someone to be at peace with, someone he did not have to fight with to remain reassured that she still cared. Ur had been awfully young, then. A mere fifteen to his eighteen but she had listened and he liked to imagine that she had understood, too. She had made hot chocolate while he had talked about how he would know when it all ended completely, when his heart would be able to claim ‘I don’t know her’ and it would be true, when he would accept that maybe, the timing had not been right or the dream had been a little too big for him.

Ur was the sole reminder he had left of the time when he had loved a girl who had smiled all the time and who had almost been someone he could have loved forever. And he remembered that Ur had once said – mere weeks after Camille had been gone – that she did not believe in a romantic version of soul mates and he had never agreed more with her. Perhaps, he decided, as he dropped his bag into the sand, a soul mate was a friend who would never leave, who would always been a nearly painful reflection of one self. Someone who was almost loved but it never actually was enough.

“What are you thinking about?” Ur asked as she pulled her dress over her head, crossing her arms as she stood in front of him, a fierceness in her eyes and a smirk on her lips. He had never understood why she donned certain clothes like it was an armour.

(Her bikini was one of them.)

“Even you couldn’t afford my thoughts,” he said as he followed her example and got rid of his shirt. “And believe me – you’d break my neck for thinking about this, Siv,” he added because it was nothing but the truth.

“I got lots of money, William,” she said as she bound her hair into a ponytail. “So I might just try to really buy your secrets from you.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he said as he stepped into the ocean, dragging her along. “Who calls me William anymore, these days? It’s Will to my friends.”

She chuckled as she freed her arm from his grip and threw herself into the waves, the black arrow on her spine taunting him. As she resurfaced, she smirked at him. “Okay then, Will,” she said as she brushed a strand out of her face, “but keep reminding me – I’m a bit forgetful, these days.”

* * *

**let's make a new start**

* * *

 

Lund stepped into the living room with a frown on her face and heels on her feet while she struggled to close a necklace. “Is Gil already at the garage?” she asked as she finally surrendered, the thin string of pearls and gold in her hand as she stepped over to the mini bar and opened it, finding what she was looking for – a slice of lemon.

“Yeah,” Silver said as he raised an eyebrow. “Do you need help with that necklace?”

“…yeah,” she confirmed as she bit down on the lemon, hard, her face twisting into a grimace. Throwing the now juiceless thing into the trash, she approached him warily. “Will you help me with that goddamn necklace?”

“Will you finally drop the last name?” he asked as he got up from the couch and sidestepped her, finally standing behind her. “‘Cause it gets a bit on my nerves that I am the odd one out all the time.”

“Suggesting a higher-ranking agent to go on first name basis?” she clicked her tongue before she held out the necklace to him. “But it’s okay by me, Silver. And please, skip the stage where you try to use my full first name. I stopped reacting to that when I was twelve.”

He snorted as he fiddled around with the necklace before he finally managed to close it. “Not that first name basis helps much, Siv,” he said as he rolled his eyes. Whoever was in charge of naming aliases was doing a horrible job. It made sense of course to have Lun— _Ur_ _’s_ disguise to originate from the North because when she got emotional over something, she slipped back into the accent of her childhood. So it was smart to have her pretend to be some rich girl from the North but using a traditional northern name was a little too much, in his opinion. It made it too cliché.

She rolled her eyes at him before she pursed her lips and slumped down on the couch, reaching for her handbag. “Makes me stay on my toes, Thomas,” she replied as her lips curled upwards. “By the way – did you have a chat with Eileen? She looked … dejected the last time I saw her and—”

He tuned her out, then. Yes, he had talked to the office girl and yes, they had been right, the poor girl had been crushing on him. But he was no complete asshole, no matter what some people thought about him. “Rejected her,” he said as the woman finally stopped rambling. “Told her that love is pretty much useless because it hurts a lot when you love someone who doesn’t love you back. I mean, look, I loved Mika and she loved me, even after she left.”

Ur was silent for a moment but there was a frown on her face and this was meant hardly anything good for him but he hurried and continued because maybe, someone aside from him would be able to understand – and had Clive not told a story about her ex-boyfriend leaving her for a nurse he had met at the hospital when he had been a patient?

“It sucks when the only person you ever loved leaves you because you’re a jerk,” he shrugged, attempting to look unfazed. “And then I told her that if she was just looking for sex, I would be in – but that was a joke. I’m no complete monster, seriously. And leading people on isn’t my kinda thing.”

“She’ll get over it,” Ur shrugged as she rummaged around in her bag. “According to Gil, it makes breakups easier if the other party hates you afterwards … staying friends seemingly never works out for him.”

He was not discussing breakup strategies with her now, was he? This was awkward, even for him and there had been a time when he had been convinced that nothing on this planet would ever make him feel awkward. Only that talking about breakups with a woman he might be slightly interested in was pretty weird for him.

But he still cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat and smirked at her. “And how do you dispose of people you are no longer interested in?” he asked as he attempted to appear as casual while he did not really feel casual.

“A bullet between the eyes usually does the trick,” she said as she got up, pacing around. “You are right, however, in one point. Love is pretty much the most useless emotion. The romantic kind, I mean. It either gets you killed or you end up heartbroken one day – and who would want that?”

“You’d take a bullet for Clive, though,” he said, unsure as of why. It was not like it made much of a difference whether she died because she was shot or because she took a bullet for someone else.

“Not out of love,” she replied as she shrugged, strolling through the room. “That’s loyalty, old bonds … nothing as dramatic as people would write about it. Although I’d take a bullet for most people I care about, off record.”

“You know – people generally don’t want others to die for them,” he said. He, for once, would not want her to die for him. That would be an unpleasant experience for him because although he had lost supposed comrades when he had been in the war, he had never lost someone from his team – which was mostly because he had never had a team like this one before. And this was both amusing and slightly terrifying because he still had a very good chance to fuck it all up.

“Ironically, that’s what I told Gil, years ago,” she said, sounding nearly offended, and her face darkened. “When he took that goddamn bullet for me … he nearly _died_ on me.”

“…the full story, please,” he said as he crossed his arms behind his head. He could tell war stories because he had been a soldier but this was a story about spies, about people working in the shadows, about people who could don another identity with the same ease he could wear a different shirt.

“The biggest lie someone can tell is that NAHA strictly works within Fiore’s borders,” she said as she straightened her spine, her eyes serious as she turned away from him, facing the window. “So we were in Iceberg … we were tracking someone … it was as easy as it should be … well, until the mark was tipped off. I think the man’s first guess was that I was the agent and Gil the accessory, the pretty but pointless decoration. So he tried to shoot me.”

In the reflection in the mirror, he saw how the set of her jaw changed and her eyes were darker than usual.

“So I paged the backup team for earlier extraction, shot the guy twice and got Gil out of there,” she finished her story with a little shrug. “You don’t shoot my partner and get away with it. You just _don’t_.”

He wondered briefly if this was a warning for him, a threat of how much she would make him regret ever hurting Clive if he would lift his hand against his partner – and it said a lot about how much they had been through, as a team, that he instantly knew that she was not kidding around about this.

“Gil – William seems to have returned. Time to go. Where’s Eucliffe?” she asked, falling at ease.

“Here,” the man said as he stepped into the room, his arms crossed. “Thank you, ma’am, for not forgetting about me.”

“Jordan,” she started as she smoothed a wrinkle out of her dress, “remember – we are all friends here. So don’t fret, it’ll be fun.”

Fun, Silver mused, as he was in the car, sitting in the front while Eucliffe was driving, was hardly the word he would associate with this assignment. But it was necessary and from what he had heard, the pay was wonderful and he got the chance to think about the meaning of life in a peaceful environment. And from the way Clive and Ur were talking, the food they would get was going to be excellent and this was exactly what he needed: sleep and good food. Maybe a few drinks, too.

The yacht club restaurant seemed to be used to odd groups, Silver decided as he trailed behind Ur and Clive and tried not to question the way they were nearly joined by the hip. It was none of his business, anyway. It was their business although when Eucliffe had asked if Siv and William were supposed to be romantically involved, Clive had laughed like a maniac before he had referred to a point in Siv’s personality profile that had declared her to be affectionate in a non-clingy manner and that the reason why she clung to Clive was that she knew that he could handle it.

“Siv,” Eucliffe said as he rested his hand on her arm, shaking slightly because he was – for some inane reason – pretty much terrified because of her. “Nice tattoo design. Is it new?”

The man himself had a huge dragon tattoo on his back, not unlike Agent Redfox’ tattoo which was still the main topic for the talk by the coffee maker in the department for analysis.

Ur flinched briefly as her hand flew up to her nape and Silver raised an eyebrow, this reaction was more than just unexpected.

“It’s covered,” Clive said in a reassuring manner.

“It isn’t new,” Ur said as she collected herself, “had it for … three years now … and it’s an arrow.”

“She cried when she got it,” the redhead grinned and the woman’s face scrunched up.

“It hurt like hell,” she hissed as they were led to their table. “More than the ones before.”

“You got rid of the most,” he pointed out.

“They were no longer relevant,” she replied, her voice containing a certain air of finality. And it struck him as odd because as far as he was informed, tattoos were supposed to be permanent. People got them to remind themselves of something. Sure, there were always people who got the wrong tattoo, who got the name of a temporary partner inked into their skin, deluding themselves. Ink lasted longer than love – or what people mistook for love, he had heard.

“Siv,” he finally said as he looked up from the menu, “what is on the schedule for tomorrow?”

She leaned back in her chair, having not even opened the menu she had been handed, and he remembered that she had told the waitress that she was drinking ‘the usual’ and he realised that this was her scene, her stage. “I’ll go diving,” she said as she flicked a tiny thread of his shoulder. “Why are you asking, Tommy?”

He did not like the way she acted, it was so unlike her that if was difficult to remember that beneath her disguise, she was still his teammate – especially since he could tell that she was having way too much fun with this whole masquerade but he doubted that she had realised yet that he could play this game as well and when she insisted to play, he was more than willed to do the same. “Oh, I was just wondering,” he said as he casually waved the waiter closer. “Thought you might go shopping or something like that.”

Looking back, if he had known in how much trouble the diving would get her and by extension, all of them, he would have cuffed her to the next chair or done something equally radical. But no matter how much he would have liked the opposite – neither Silver Fullbuster nor Thomas Javier were clairvoyant and even if they had been able to warn her, it was more than doubtful that either Ur Lund or Siv Vann would have listened to him – both were known for being ridiculously stubborn at times, after all.


	10. x.

**'cause sooner or later it's over**

* * *

 

In retrospective, it nearly made her laugh and this said something about how inane this situation currently was. She had been diving whenever she had been by the sea and although it was true that her skin burned easily, she had been allowed to learn how to dive. She was no newbie and she had to admit, there had been a time after incidents with the label of ‘we do not talk about this’ when underwater was the only place where she had felt completely safe – perhaps because it was so far away from everything.

But not today.

Today, there was a bleeding cut on her leg, her suit was partly ripped, she was nearly out of air and – to crown all of this – someone had tried to kill her. This was not what she liked. But she was nothing if not capable of adapting to a bad situation and so she had pretended to be hit when a bullet had been close enough and she had sunken, making use of the distraction to get away as far as possible.

And right now, the seasoned agent was clinging to a rock in the middle of the ocean, praying that she was not seen while she fumbled around in the waterproof pocket to get a hold on someone who could provide immediate extraction from this point.

This was not the way this day had been supposed to go, she decided as she hit the speed dial function for Gildarts.  Only, that she was not stupid enough to think that after she had been nearly shot, she should be using real names. Their cover might be slightly blown – which was embarrassing because they had been here for less than twenty-four hours – but there was still room and space for hopes.

Finally, her call was accepted and – hissing in pain – she allowed herself to relax slightly. “Atlas, here is Nike,” she said as she tried to calm her breathing and to even stop her heart from tearing apart her ribcage. “I require extraction. I am under fire and I am injured.”

But the voice she heard did not belong to Gildarts and she found herself sighing at this new information. It had to be this way, of course it had to be. There was no way in hell fate could be on her side for once, no. It had had to be no one but Full— (wait, they were on first name basis by now which was probably for the better) Silver who answered her call.

 _‘Atlas?’_ he repeated and she could just imagine the way he had to frown. _‘Wait – codenames, right? That got to be it. Okay, no worries – I’ll get you out of where you are.’_

“Would be nice,” she said, barely keeping herself from hissing as more salty water seeped into her wound. “As for my position – I can see the yacht club we ate at last night from where I am. Just be careful – when someone tries to shoot me, that can’t mean something good.”

 _‘Wouldn’t have guessed,’_ he replied. _‘Okay – so you guess that a boat would be helpful?’_

“Unless you want to swim,” she said drily because no matter how injured she was, she had always time for some well-placed sarcasm. “And as I said – swimming is kinda out of question right now.”

 _‘Ah, you are always such an optimist – Nike,’_ he said and she could hear the grin in his voice. It made her ears burn crimson for reasons she could not quite comprehend and overall, she was feeling weird. She had not signed up for this sort of thing. She had not signed up to have her old alias ridiculed.

She did not remember when it had been necessary for her and Gildarts to get permanent aliases but for as long as she remember being an agent, she had had one. It had been given to her when she had been a member of NAHA so it had perhaps been the director of this agency to first all her this. Gildarts’ alias had been named Atlas for all the obvious reasons. He was tall, he was physically strong and he was capable of shouldering the burden that came with certain assignments. To the day, however, Ur had not understood yet why out of all the names that fit the pattern, it had had to be Nike, the goddess of victory, and it had never explained to her, either.

“Just get me out of here,” she huffed as she prayed that this extraction would work without problems. Without her injury, she might have had a chance to escape the situation without someone else’s help. She was not quite sure how she would have pulled it off but there would have been ways for this. But no, she had had to cut herself and this did not just hurt horribly, no, it also slowed her down considerably.

 _‘Will do,’_ he said and then, the call ended and she closed her eyes as she returned the phone to its pocket and clung to the rock with both arms. This situation made her feel miserable. She was not used to failure, she was not used to having to be saved. Part of the reason why she liked being an agent was that she came with the skill to hurt someone who messed with her and the permission to do so, too. It was what had made her become an agent in the first place, back in the days when she had been still trying to tell herself that she would never regret being an architect.

She liked most aspects of her job. It made her feel very good when she managed to crack someone’s code, to get into someone else’s brain and succeeded in preventing a crime. She was naturally competitive so every time she won against a criminal – whether in a game between two minds or in a direct confrontation – she was walking on clouds for at least two days afterwards or until the next challenge popped up and required her attention.

What she did not like was the constant risk of getting hurt. When she had been nearly ten years younger, she had been able to shrug off certain injuries and it had mattered little to her but these days, there were injuries that could take her out of the game for days if not weeks and this was something she really did not like to consider because it was just frustrating.

And then, there was the way she did not know how much she could trust the other people on her team. She trusted Gildarts with her life, always had. He had had so many chances to betray her, to let her down but he never had. She could trust Ivan who was currently not there, too. He had helped her out so many times, had kept things under the wraps for her and this was what made her so certain that in the end of the day, he was loyal. And then, there was Silver. She trusted him, too, but she was not entirely sure why and she prayed that whatever attraction she felt was not playing into it because that would be plain pathetic. Finally – Eucliffe. She most certainly did not trust him because she knew virtually nothing about him aside that he was a part of the kidnapping taskforce and that he was a friend of Agent Marvell which would mean everything or nothing at all.

She had been betrayed by supposed friends in the past and she was not thinking that it would be entirely unlikely that a friend’s friend would betray her if there was the right motif.

“Oi, Siv.”

She did not flinch when she heard Fullbuster’s voice but she turned around and she exhaled, relief written all over her face as the tension fell off from her. He had borrowed one of the smaller ships her grandfather liked to use when he was in the summer residence and she smirked as she threw her equipment onto the ship. “Lend me a hand, will you?” she asked as she realised that with her leg in this state, getting onto the ship could be an actual problem.

“Sure, no problem,” he said as he pulled her onto the boat, still grinning widely. “Now, let’s get out of here – I doubt your grandpa would be _enchanted_ to learn that his ship took damage.”

“Especially since you took the one named after my grandma,” she replied, her lips curling upwards into a sly smirk as she removed the knives she had been carrying with her before she peeled herself out of the suit. “Don’t look so scandalised, Tommy,” she said as she rolled her eyes, “I’m still wearing a bikini underneath.”

“Which makes it _totally_ better,” he said with a huff as he steered the boat away from the rocks. “Could you identify the one who tried to shoot you, Siv? Was it our target? Or do you think that was random and you weren’t even supposed to be the victim?”

She was silent for her moment, her forehead wrinkled as she stared out at the sea. “Not quite sure,” she finally said as she cut through the suit’s fabric to free her injured leg. The gash looked even worse up close and she was happy that she did not feel uncomfortable that easily anymore or she would probably have fainted.

“You think it’s a possibility?” he asked as he looked over his shoulder, whistling softly as he saw the injury. “That was no bullet.”

“Smart kid, Tommy, really,” she huffed, her voice light and nearly teasing in spite of the situation, as she got her hands onto the first aid kit, her eyes rolling backwards as she cleaned out the wound. “That’s actually the reason why William never lets me keep my knives, I have a horrible track record when it comes to accidents.”

“That doesn’t look like a fucking accident to me,” he said as he stopped the engine, “that looks like you tried to cut off your own leg … really, Siv, take better care of yourself.”

“I was in a hurry to get away,” she said as she frowned as him. “Whatcha doing, though?”

He exhaled and bit his lip before he sighed deeply. “I think,” he started, “that you should call your ex-superior to get to know what we are chasing after in the first place.”

She stopped her movements, shaking her head as she looked at him. “I can’t just call her,” she protested as she wrapped the bandages around her leg. “No one goes ahead and just calls her. That gets you into so much trouble.”

“You are no longer her subordinate,” he replied as he shrugged, “and I doubt she actually would do something to harm you – we are all on the same side in this mess, aren’t we?”

“It shows that you never met her,” she muttered as she reached beneath the bench and pulled out one sweaters that belonged to her grandmother. “Director Edel is … _harsh.”_

And this was the understatement of the century. The old lady was no one Ur would ever want to have as an enemy because this was the woman who had ordered hits on dangerous people all over the continent. Ur knew this because sometimes, she had been the one to execute those assassinations. And although she knew better than to think that the director would order her death, she was happy about the distance they had these days.

“Are you really that scared of her?” he asked and she felt how her teeth gritted. This was a pretty obvious attempt to taunt her but it was even sadder that she was falling for it.

“I am not scared,” she huffed as she dialled the number, “but I have a feeling that we won’t like the answers we’ll get … although, when we are lucky, we get the permission to _terminate_ this.”

It was always strangely comforting for her when she could temporarily slip back into the jargon of the past, when she could handle her life the same way she had done it years ago.

* * *

**maybe i don't need you to save me**

* * *

 

Gildarts was furious but he was not quite sure about what. On one hand, he was angry that someone had had the nerve to try to kill Ur. On the other hand, he was mad at his superiors for not providing them with the necessary information because this was why the other thing had happened in the first place. He paced around in the living room, musing about the best way to proceed from this point onwards – there was a lot to consider, after all – and finally, he stopped in front of the wide window, looking outside.

“Ur,” he said and did not even have to look over his shoulder to know that she had soundlessly entered the room and was now sitting in the chair in the corner, her face likely mirroring his own. “What’s the plan?”

“One of us could land a clean hit on the mark,” she replied and although this was exactly what he had expected to hear from her, it was also the last thing he had hoped for.

He did not want to go back to a time when problems had been solved with a bullet placed cleanly between the eyes of another person. He did not like to think about the years when it had been dangerous to wake her up at night because she slept with a gun under her pillow and was sometimes disoriented enough right after she was woken up that it was a genuine risk that she would pull the trigger on everything and everything that startled her.

And it was not like he had been in a much better place, back in those days. He had perhaps never kept a gun underneath his pillow but this was because his entire body had long become a weapon. He had been doing martial arts since he had been five and when someone was stupid enough to come at him and try to pick a fight, it would have to be someone with equal experience to even be considered to be a threat by Gildarts’ standards. And because he knew of his own strength, he had been terrified as hell when he had first realised that when he was woken up by someone, he was just as disoriented as his then-partner and that his mind – conditioned to recognise threats and get them terminated – went on something like autopilot.

“We said that we were going to be good people from this point onwards,” he replied as he rested his hands on the windowsill. It was not easy, he supposed. There had been a time in their lives when it had been easier for them to get rid of someone permanently than to properly secure a crime scene. They were both far from being good people but they had the sole consolation that the people they had terminated had been of the bad kind. Drug bosses, terrorists far more dangerous than Deliora.

“I know what we said,” the woman replied and there was this dangerous kind of fatigue in her voice. It was just them in this room and he was happy about this because they knew each other’s darkness and there was no reason to explain something. Sometimes he thought that the camaraderie he shared with her was beautiful because it was a tragedy in the making.

“But you aren’t above going back on your word,” he said quietly. It was the truth, one of her flaws – if he even could call it that. She had done things she had said she would never do when the situation had changed and she had simply shrugged and said that she had not had all the facts when she had made the first call.

“Not when it’s necessary, no,” she said as she sighed deeply. “I can go and get the mark here, you know? We could have a nice little chat with him and see what we’ll do afterwards.”

“Yes,” he said as he nodded. “Good idea, really.”

There was no sarcasm in his voice, not this time. The suggestion she had made was a good one and so there was no reason whatsoever for him to pretend otherwise. She had always been the smarter one between them and he had long gotten used to it.

“Then we have our answer,” she said as she rose to her feet, her clothes rustling as she moved. “I’ll try to get it done as soon as possible – no worries, you can trust me there.”

And he nodded, listening to her footsteps as they faded out. He hoped that she would get this job done with a few sugar-coated lies, that she would not have to hurt someone although he knew that she was not going to dirty her hands over someone this disgusting. It was probably wonderful that he could trust her so blindly and he was happy about the summer day when he had been stretched on the meadow by his parents’ house, musing about how he should probably do his father a favour and just mow it, when a shadow had fallen over him. He had last seen her at their graduation when she had been fourteen and he nearly eighteen but they had remained in contact. She had commented on the grass and he had laughed as he had gotten up and led her into the cool house – she had never had much tolerance for the heat – to offer her some water and then, she had told him that she had gotten an offer from NAHA and that she knew that he had gotten one as well.

He had known that she was going to accept it, that she would trade her safe career as an architect for one as an agent, before she had known it and he had sighed and he had looked at her hands because he had known that, sooner or later, she would coat them in red.

(Most of the best spies and assassins were female although movies seemed to fight a desperate battle to pretend otherwise.)

He just hoped that she would not add more red, fresh red to it today because she had worked so hard to avoid this sort of problem and it would be plain sad if it would happen all over again. She had been a more than capable killer but it was not in her instincts. When she shot, she rarely shot to kill, she usually attempted to immobilise her target at first – as long as she had a choice in the matter and did not have an order that led her hand in the decision.

Gildarts remembered a time when he had lived in lies very well, when he had told so many lies that in the end, he had not been able to remember what had been truth. He had been happy, at the time, to know that there was no way in hell that Ur would ever lie to him. Looking back, it had been a dangerous decision of him to trust her blindly because she had been his crutch for a while and this was never good, it was highly dangerous.

“Clive.”

He looked over his shoulder, straight at his new partner. “Fullbuster,” he said as he raised an eyebrow. “What can I do for you? You look a bit … shaken.”

“Her _ladyship_ just left with an expression on her face that screamed murder,” the dark-haired man replied as he slumped down on the very chair where the woman in question had been sitting before she had left for her mission. “Explanation?”

Gildarts sighed deeply as he averted his gaze, reigning his face into a mask of polite disinterest. “She is getting us a … visitor,” he said as he sighed deeply. “It’s case-related, no worries.”

“She is injured,” the other man pointed out and the supposed leader just shrugged, not quite understanding the problem. He was sick and tired of people who made it sound like an injury suddenly turned someone who had always been made of platinum into porcelain. He had said this a million times to a million different people and sometimes, he remembered that he was not talking about his former partner but about himself. He had been hurt long before Ur had suffered a single scratch, he was just better at keeping his wounds from showing.

“Injured does not mean incapable of working,” Gildarts replied as he shook his head. “Plus – let her have this … she’ll get grumpy when she gets the vibe that someone is patronising her.”

“There is a difference between patronising someone and letting someone run off to potentially get herself killed,” Fullbuster said and for a moment, Gildarts entertained the thought of a world in which the members of his team said what they actually meant rather than to lose themselves in a million short sentences that were never complete because they all kept the bigger part of the truth covered up.

“Believe me,” Gildarts said calmly because there was nothing he had to blame himself for, “if I wouldn’t think that she can handle it, she wouldn’t have gone there.”

Or if she had insisted to go although she was not ready for it, he would not have approved of this because he was not her punching bag, not the fool who signed one permission form after the next, just to keep her pacified.

“You would stop her?” Fullbuster asked and there was this disbelief in his voice that was just too familiar for Gildarts. No one had ever understood that Ur – in spite of her higher rank – was more likely to sell her grandmother’s jewellery to hide in the north, far away from everyone than to let anyone try to push her into a role that was bigger than what she had actively chosen. She came with a set of complicated rules and he had taken a long time to memorise them all and to learn how important they were to her.

“Of course I would,” Gildarts replied as he turned around, a half-grin on his face. “I’m the boss around here, right?”

“Yeah,” the other man said and there was sarcasm in his voice. “The almighty leader, _sure.”_

Gildarts did not even bother to feel offended by what had just been said. He knew that he was as much of a leader as Ur was, hell, he did not want to either. They were both good at following orders, at going along with someone else’s calls and they were even better at teamwork, at everything that required for them to connect their efforts and to push through it. Gildarts did not want to be a leader but he had wanted to be part of a team and when Director Babasama had looked at him and told him that if he wanted this team, he would have to take full responsibility for it. He had been taken aback for a moment and then, he had considered to just give up and to forget that he had ever wanted such a thing. It had seemed to be easier than to go and shoulder a burden he could not even guess the weight off.

“Gil,” Ur said as she pushed a brunette man into the room, “I’ve returned.”

The man looked a little shaken and very offended but he had not even suffered a single bruise from her treatment so he was certainly one of the luckier ones because although she was not the kind of person to constantly remind everyone of it, she had passed the same kind of training Gildarts had and she had learned how to hurt people.

And it was usually smarter to remember this because she would never forgive anyone for forgetting.

“Good job,” he said with a smirk. “Now, go get some medicine and try to rest a little – I’ll take it from here.”

He was content with the current state of affairs, if they got the right information out of the man, they would be permitted to arrest him and they could leave this town of too rich people behind.

“Alright,” she said as nodded slightly. “I’ll pack my suitcase and then, I’ll see if I can get some sleep. The painkillers you gave me earlier made me all tired – my brain feels like cotton.”

A pretty mental picture, Gildarts supposed as he grinned at their special guest, but as much had to be expected from the ice queen herself. 

* * *

**across my memory**

* * *

 

Ivan looked up from the body he was working on when a familiar person stepped into the morgue, balancing a cup of tea atop of a cup of coffee. He was not going to admit it but it had been awfully silent around headquarters for the five days his team had been gone and he was relieved that his boredom would end very soon and that he would go back to business as usual.

“Back already?” he asked although he had heard the rumours on the hallways when he had left his part of the building to get tea. The rumours would have unsettled him – it was never good when news about an assignment reached headquarters before the agents on it did and this rule went especially for his team. He had felt the humming noise in the building, it had resounded in his spine and he had known that something bad was about to happen.

“Bambi pulled some ninja stunt and Clive had a chat with the target and we totally disobeyed all the orders we had been given but no one seems to care about that,” Fullbuster said as he slumped down on a chair, pushing one of the cups across the desk. “There you go.”

“Someone told you that I don’t drink coffee, huh?” the medical examiner mused as he took a sip from the hot beverage he had been given.

“Bambi did,” the other man replied and Ivan had to resist the urge not to roll his eyes because as much had been nearly obvious to him.

As far as he was concerned, it was difficult to determine who was the most oblivious member of the team and perhaps it was the woman who had never been good at realising when someone was interested in a way, it was nearly ridiculous and for the longest time, he had been sure that she was playing the fool, that she knew about it and had chosen to ignore it. Years had passed and taught him otherwise, she was truly not quite able to see.

Or maybe it was the newcomer to the team who did not seem to realise that if she would not actually like him, he would probably long have ended up in a dark corner of the world with a bullet between his eyes. It was true, of course, that Ur was not exactly the expert for showing people her affection, she was too focused on keeping those things a secret, hidden in her sleeves, never letting anything show. Although – for her standards, she was not even being subtle anymore. Still, it would be too much to say that she was being blunt – that was simply not part of a woman who had spent years in the shadows of half-truths.

 _“…Bambi,”_ Ivan repeated as he removed his gloves and lifted the lid of the tea. “Most people wouldn’t survive something like that … anyway, how did the job go? Quite a few people called it unfair that you were send off for this.”

“Well, Clive was silent for the whole travel back and I think he and her had some kind of fight – she has avoided him,” Fullbuster shrugged as he leaned against a counter, reaching into his pocket to get the usual amount of sugar from there. “Was pretty obvious; she made Eucliffe trade seats with her on the plane and the moment we got here, she disappeared.”

This did not sound good at all and Ivan caught himself sighing as he took a sip of his tea – green tea with a hint of lemon, just how he liked it – before he got rid of his white lab coat and shook his head. “I will check the shooting range,” he said as he grimaced. Out of all the places at headquarters, this was likely the least favourite because it reminded him too much of his father and that relationship was complicated. But as he remembered that Ur had sewn a deep cut for him once when he had refused to go to the hospital although needles freaked her out beyond rationality, he did not think that he had much of an option in this.

There were no words that could describe how nauseous everything that reminded him of the military made him feel – which was why he had given Fullbuster such a hard time when they had first met – because it always reminded him of his father and of the disappointment he had been for the man when he had realised that he was too smart to get himself killed in a war that was led over a cause he was too intelligent to believe in. They said that scents were most likely to trigger memories and while he would always feel at home when he was surrounded by the smell of antiseptics and thyme, he would never feel comfortable around iron and gunpowder when the smell was still fresh.

“Why do you think she went there?” the specialist inquired as he took a sip of his coffee. “She could have gone home or something.”

“Because I know what really got her mad enough to lose all subtlety about something like that,” he muttered as he straightened his tie and rolled his shoulders. “You and Clive should consider yourselves lucky that you live in your ivory tower.”

And Ivan was unlucky enough to be constantly overlooked. People talked when he was in the room and not everything he heard made him happy, especially when it was about people he had to come to care for. Therefore, he had been more than just mildly aggravated when he had first heard about the newest gossip regarding a certain woman who was terrifying for most other agents which did not keep them from spreading rumours about her.

There was no ivory tower for a man who had burned down the last one, who had bent the golden cage he had been kept in out of shape. Ivan always knew, even when knowing was the last thing he actually wanted to do. Because the knowledge often turned out to be a burden and he carried more than enough already and so he did not understand why people insisted on making him carry even more all the time.

He left his rooms with the tea firmly in his hand and a frown on his face. He did notice that the other man was trailing behind but he did not bother to explain a single thing. The general situation was getting out of hand and it was not his job to fix it.

(Only, there was no one else who could.)

He had been right, she was indeed in the range and he had to roll his eyes at her. She had decided to not even bother with trying to look like she was calm. She had shed off her uniform jacket and her blouse and against the rules, she had her headphones in her ears and was – without a doubt – listening to music aggressive enough to match her current mood.

He sighed as he approached her, carefully tapping her shoulder before he smiled at her. There was no reason to let her know that he knew what had set her off this time because if she wanted him to know about this, she would tell him about it.

“Ivan,” she said with a short nod as she removed the headphones, an irritated expression on her face, “and Silver – what do you want?”

The irritation in her voice proved that she was more than just a little ticked off and although this had nothing on the Zinnia Incident after which she had allegedly trashed a whole room when she had thrown her temper tantrum which had been fuelled by the doctors’ refusal to let her see her partner and her general stress.

“I heard you disappeared after a fight with Clive,” he said carefully as he took the gun from her, removing the magazine before passing it on to the other man. Just because he was not fond of firearms – he saw far too many who had died because of them – did not mean that he did not know how to handle them.

“It was necessary,” she said grimly before she looked at the other member of their team with a frown. “Telling on me isn’t nice, Silver,” she said softly as she huffed.

“Disappearing on the team and letting Clive deal with the aftermath wasn’t nice either,” he replied, nodding slightly at her. “ _Really_.”

“…you heard what they said on the hallways, didn’t you?” she asked as she crossed her bare arms over her chest.

While this confirmed Ivan’s guess, he was more interested in getting to know when exactly ‘newbie’ and ‘Fullbuster’ had become Silver because it was not like Ur was quick in offering someone to use her first name as opposed to her rank or her last name. then, it had been months since they had become parts of the same team.

“Should I care about the hallway gossip?” Fullbuster asked and the medical examiner was tempted to roll his eyes, once again. Yes, of course he was supposed to care when it was bad enough to upset Ur. Actually, everyone should instantly drop everything and try to get the information when said information had managed to cause the woman’s armour to crack because for the past five years, Ur’s armour had been flawless.

“I suppose this is the part where I remind you that hallway gossip can directly influence your career,” she hissed, her teeth gritted. “Ivan – you have heard about it, haven’t you?”

Ivan pressed his lips together, unwilling to comment on it because he had informed her about his opinion in the matter years ago when the topic had first come up.

“Ur,” he said as she glared at him and he felt the blood in his veins freeze, “you know how people are and how they talk. So don’t lose sleep over this – it’s not worth it.”

And he meant it. Yes, those rumours were vile and Ur did not deserve to be associated to a story like that but she was a big girl and she could handle this sort of thing without getting people involved.

“My career might be in danger and you tell me that it is not worth it?” she asked and her eyes gleamed dangerously. “Are you _kidding_ me?”

“Actually, it now starts to sounds interesting,” Fullbuster said as he smirked and leaned closer, a careless expression on his face.

“It’s the usual business,” the woman said as her entire face scrunched up, “because being female and having a high rank obviously means that I slept with one of the superiors.”

Her disgust was nearly tangible and Ivan could not even blame her because it was just so unnecessary because by now, everyone of importance should have realised that as far as hard workers went, there were not many who were as dedicated to their careers as Ur happened to be. She had, of course, something to prove and this made her bitter whenever someone implied that she did not deserve what she had gained.

“They say what about you?” Fullbuster repeated and for a moment, Ivan felt a twinge of hope which was promptly crushed. “Oh c’mon, you aren’t called ice queen because you’re easy – if you know what I mean.”

In Ivan’s opinion, it was impossible not to know what the man meant and a part of him was nearly convinced that Ur had long caught on as well and this would certainly not help their causes. Ur would rather stab herself than to admit that she liked someone who liked to mess with her. According to her, it had something to do with self-respect but he was nearly sure that it was more about pride.

“Moron,” Ur said with a huff as she released her hair from the messy bun she had been sporting. “And I guess it takes a _monkey_ to misinterpret you, Fullbuster.”

Ivan smirked but it did not quite reach his eyes as he pocketed the useless gun. “Now, now, let’s all stay friendly here,” he said with a vague smile before he rested a hand on their shoulders. “And let’s get out of here – I don’t like the smell of gunpowder that much.”

“I am done here, anyway,” Ur replied and in her voice was an air of finality. Reaching for her jacket, her face softened. “I could use some pizza,” she said as she closed the buttons with considerably more care than necessary.

“Comfort food?” the medical examiner asked with a sigh. “Are we that angry?”

“Well, not quite sure about you but I certainly am,” she replied as she ruffled her hair, a frustrated expression on her face. Ivan and Ur shared many preferences as they both favoured green tea over most other kinds and non-fictional texts over most types of novels. Of course, there was something about a thrilling tale but for Ivan, dry knowledge had always been oddly comforting. And just like all those little things, they coincidentally shared the same situation-dependent comfort foods. Chocolate was for sadness, lemon and ginger tea for pain and pizza was for anger or frustration. And although Ivan would have guessed that she was more irritated than actually angry, she had made the call and he would follow.

“We can’t have you being angry,” Fullbuster said and this was likely the wisest he had said all day because the last thing Ivan wanted right now was an encore of the infamous incident during which Ur had pretty much trashed an entire office. Short as she might be, she was a force to be reckoned with and although Ivan was not one to quote his father, the saying _‘it’s not the size of the dog in the fight that matters but the size of the fight in the dog’_ might be highly accurate.

“No, we can’t,” Ivan confirmed as he crossed his arms before he raised an eyebrow at the woman, “but there is more to your mood that just the newest products of the dangerous combination between creativity and boredom, correct?”

For a moment, there was silence while Ur took her things from the shelf behind her, spending unusually much attention on the buckles of the various holsters she was wearing. He knew what this meant – that she was waiting to be called onto the field, that she would be given some sort of duty. He was not the only one who rather liked to be well-prepared for whatever was headed his way and her knack for being ready for everything was one of the reasons why they had always gotten along so well.

“Chres put me on babysitter duty for Saturday evening,” she said after a moment before she pressed her lips together and added a part that appeared to be rather crucial to Ivan. “On _literal_ babysitter duty.”

Ivan knew that this meant and he had to say that it did not please him. He was fond of the white-haired agent who had often been helpful with his guesses and his statements – well, before he had switched over to T&E, the department for Technology and Equipment. Well, this was his official assignment, everyone knew that he was mostly handling undercover investigations which was why he was often missing for days and weeks and why he was always roping other agents into looking after his son while he was gone. Usually, it was someone of his own team like Grandine Marvell who had the doubtful honour of handling this assignment but everyone once in a while, it was Ur which was something that had once worried Ivan because it had appeared to him as rather risky to have her looking after a child.

“You think he is working some seriously important undercover job that probably requires a real complicated cover story,” Ivan said and he sighed deeply before he patted her shoulder. “Now, cheer up, he’ll be fine.” 

* * *

**gimme a break, a little escape**

* * *

 

The days passed without events and for a change, there was hardly any underlying tension in the office which caused them to get actual work done. Silver was not even surprised when all it took for his partner and Ur to go back to the way it had always been was a short nod and he was secretly relieved that whatever had happened was no longer of importance. Arguments would only disrupt the way the team had to work on cases – although right now, there was an unusual laziness in the air, one that had possessed even Ur who was usually among the most productive agents.

In the end, the docile way Ur Lund was doing simply nothing that could have been seen as productive should have warned him, should have warned absolutely everybody. But no, he walked into it, completely blind. He did not pay much attention to the way her fingers were wrapped around the edge of her desk, holding onto it with all her might, restraining herself. But he missed what should have been rather obvious to him after all those months and so he flinched when she got up a little too fast and her chair fell to the ground.

His initial reaction was to felt betrayed because she had led him to believe that she was alright. The second thought was ‘finally’ because whatever was about to happen could only be better than what was happening right now. She had been obviously trying to keep whatever aggravated her under control for as long as possible but in the end, she was not quite able to handle her own emotions which seemed to be typical for her.

And even Ursea Lund could not force herself to remain calm when something was raging inside of her.

“Ur,” Clive said without even looking up. “Go. Take your five minutes off. We’ll be good, you know that.”

The reassurance seemed unnecessary but she nodded, her gaze wide and slightly panicked, and she was out of the office before Silver had even managed to rearrange his thoughts. She left behind nothing but the scent of lemon sorbet and Silver found himself frowning.

If the ex-soldier were entirely honest, he would have to state that she did not look like she was okay. Her usual calm facial expression had been torn off her face and this had left her unguarded for a split second. She probably really needed a moment to herself, a moment to push back whatever war was raging inside of her.

He could understand as much.

She was not the only one with demons plaguing her thoughts but because he knew, he knew better than to leave her on her own when she was obviously not quite herself right now. Damn, this stupid _infatuation_ was slowly getting out of hand when he felt like leaving her alone in times like this was _dangerous_.

For her. For them. For everyone.

The last thing they needed was a genius out of control, a woman who had solved enough cases to be a good candidate for pulling off the perfect crime – not that there was such a thing in the very first place. All criminals made mistakes and those who had truly committed a perfect crime still got caught because it was in the nature of all human’s to strive for acknowledgement … and what was the point in having pulled off a perfect crime if there was no one to appreciate the genius it had taken?

“Her lack of down time shows,” Clive said as he shuffled through some files, a roll of his eyes accompanying the statement that caught Silver entirely off guard. “Maybe I should ban her from dating … what do you think, Dreyar?”

The medical examiner looked up from his book and sighed deeply with what seemed to be his soul. “Tell her what she is supposed to do and she’ll have your head before you know what’s happening.”

“He’s right,” Silver said as he mused why he had heard not much about the dating thing yet. And if she was playing the field, why had he not heard anything interesting about this yet? Why did she not start with those who were closest to her? And why now? Why in a time when she was emotionally vulnerable? And he was not blind enough to ignore _that_ fact.

It was nearly too easy to slip out of the office under the claim of going to look for some reports and to get to the gym. Under different circumstances, Silver would have just let her do her thing but he had questions he preferred to be answered soon so he was headed for the gym before he knew.

Her fist met the punching bag with a resounding noise and he took half a step back because from the way her muscles were tensed, it looked like she was letting off some steam and a person who was not Silver might have let her to her own devices but he was a little too curious about what on earth she was doing to just leave her alone – plus, getting closer to figuring her out was an important quest for him.

“Silver Fullbuster,” she said as dodged an invisible blow before she landed her own hit – ice cold calculation, no mercy for her opponent who was not really there.

“Yo,” he greeted as he shook of his shoes – he was in the gym, after all, where shoes were not allowed. “You okay?”

He did not like the way she left him hanging all the time. Sometimes, they seemed to be nearly flirting and the next moment, she went and caught him completely off-guard when she just did not care about whatever funny video he had found. It nearly seemed like they might end up being just another ‘almost’ in his life, just another thing that might have worked it under different circumstances, with a better timing. And Silver had had more than enough ‘almosts’ in his life.

‘Almost’ just did not cut it anymore and he would much prefer a serious statement, whether she was interested or not because it would make things so much easier – once he handled whatever her answer would be. Rationally speaking, he knew what would happen. Having a relationship with a co-worker was not just unprofessional but it was also stupid and his – if he was still in high school, he would call it a crush – object of affection was neither unprofessional nor stupid so he should just get it out of his head before it could grow into something else, into something _more_.

“Perfectly,” she started as she delivered a hard kick, “fine … why are you asking about that, Silver? Did Gil get worried or something?”

“I nearly did,” he admitted, “because I remembered that you are still yourself.”

“Charming, really,” she said as she rolled her eyes at him when she looked over her shoulder. “But really … I’m fine. I just had a few rough days … but it won’t hamper with my work.”

“Clive mentioned that you were hitting the dating scene again,” he said and nearly kicked himself for it because this was a pointless statement – and it was so damn petty, too. Who cared if she was dating anyone? He surely not.

Only, of course, that he was still somewhat interested simply because this was a new development and he was kind of confused as of why the undercover assignment of Chres Vastia caused the woman to throw herself back into a dating scene. In all the months in which Silver had known her, she had never been one to date and he was sure that he would have heard about it if it was different.

She was not someone he could easily talk to because in every move, in every well-calculated word and in every not-quite-casual touch was a warning that she could and would ruin lives if only she was pushed a bit too far. And he knew that she was aware of it as well because she was just saying so.

“I don’t think that I am cut out for this whole dating business,” she muttered as she removed the bandages from her hands, rubbing some kind of cream onto the reddened knuckles. He knew that he was not supposed to know the story she had told Clive about her last date but he had been standing in the kitchen and they had not been keeping their voices on a level that would have made it hard for him to hear a thing.

“I think you might be thinking about this whole thing a bit too much,” he said smoothly although a part of him was very tempted to agree with her. She was nothing like the girls he had kissed in high school, girls who had been all gold and glitter and horrible _fake_. She was a no lesson he had had to learn, she was not the last exam someone had to take on the way to become what would idiots call a ‘real man’. She was, first and foremost, an agent because that was what she identified as. And that she was an agent meant that she was all blood and sweat instead of beatgold and roses.

But she was powerful in an odd sense because she always had the attention of everyone in the room two minutes after she made her appearance because she was a little too real. Everyone in the police department knew that she had earned her stripes, so to speak. Her way had been a hard one and she had bled for her goals but this knowledge made it entirely impossible for anyone to ignore her.

“I don’t think so,” she said as she rose from where she had been sitting, stretching her muscles without paying much attention to her movements if her absentminded facial expression was anything to go by. “I mean – I was told that he was looking for a replacement for his ex who left him to work abroad … what kind of person brings this up on the first date?”

“Someone … _honest_?” he tried before she glared at him with what appeared to be powerful enough to make him feel like a horrible person. “Okay … someone who is really stupid and disrespectful – which says a lot about your _horrible_ taste in men, by the way.”

“And it was not even in a way that made it sound like it was a genuine attempt on making me feel sorry for him – it was a line like _‘my girlfriend left and now I look for a new one’_ … which is why I asked the waiter for the bill and left,” she huffed as she rested her hands on the knobs of the climbing wall for a moment before she reached for the belts and buckled up. “Maybe Gil was right and I missed my window.”

He rolled his eyes. As far as he was concerned, she had not missed her window, she was just making highly questionable decisions. But the way she had gone back to dating said one thing very clearly – that she was not interested in him whatsoever. And that was no big deal for him because whatever childish little crush he had on her, he would get over it before long and one day, he would be able to bring it up in a conversation, make a joke about it and she would see what she had missed out on while she had been dating people who sounded like the second coming of the greatest idiot ever if they were not the biggest fool in the first place.

“You know that you shouldn’t use the wall unless someone else pays attention,” he said instead as he crossed his arms. “Especially not right after using some sort of cream.”

“Are you really educating me about gym safety while I’m pouring out my heart to you?” she asked as she looked down at him from over her shoulder, “and I know what I’m doing – against what seemed to be the opinion of _Horrible Date #5_ , I am no idiot.”

“There was a fifth date?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow at her. “Mind to explain why on earth you start dating all of a sudden and why you rush from one disaster – I mean, _date_ – to the next?”

“I get the dangerous vibe that my father and you might get along,” she said as she reached for another knob and pulled herself up. “You share the knack for criticising me … something I am not fond of.”

“That’s a nice attempt on distracting me but sadly for you, I am not falling for it,” he said in the most annoying voice he could come up with. “So spill the beans.”

She gritted her teeth and her muscles tensed as she halted her movements for a moment. “According to some,” she started, “I am unable of expression emotions. This is what it means to be the ice queen, you know.”

“I think you identify a little too much with that role,” he said as he kept an eye on her movements but it did not look like she was going to fall down. “If you take it away, who are you?”

“The sort of person who breaks everything she ever touches like glass,” she replied drily as she slammed her palm against the bell atop of the wall. “But I doubt you came here to discuss my love life with me, correct?”

“It’s not really that interesting compared to my own,” he said as she walked back down, turning around and mouthing ‘ _jerk’_ at him when she was on the ground again. She was truly hilarious, especially when she did not want to be, he mused as she removed the belts from her form with a pensive expression on her face.

“Off the record,” she started as she wiped a pearl of sweat of her brow before she smoothed her messy hair, “my love li—”

She never got to finish the sentence because Gildarts barged into the gym with a dark expression on his face, throwing her the usual equipment for trips into the field before he sighed deeply, collecting himself for a split second. “Vastia made the distress call,” he said, his words chosen carefully. “We are his extraction team. Let’s go.”


	11. xi.

**you're going down, down, down, boy**

* * *

 

Ur heard the sound of the drums of the death when she ran through the complex system of alleyways that made up the bad part of town – or maybe it was no drum, maybe it was just her heartbeat. The truth was – although she could deny it for years afterwards – that the rational part of her knew what had happened long before she turned that corner, one eye trained onto the little screen on her wrist, the one used to track down the other agent.

A shot rang out and Chres fell.

His white shirt was stained crimson and she felt how her throat felt like it had been sewn shut. She had never been one to get close to people easily, she was someone who usually preferred to keep to herself because if she let no one in, she could not be betrayed. Looking back, she should have chosen the people she had allowed herself to trust a little better because Bane had been a _complete disaster_.

But she had been close to Chres because from the day they had met, back when she had been an agent of NAHA and he the liaison between ECID and NAHA, he had been a friend, a comrade – someone who had encouraged her, who had cheered her up when she had come so close to quitting and going back to the life she had left behind.

And now, he was _down_.

Years of flawless undercover work, a record of countless years he had gone without getting even a single scratch on the line of duty – and then, this. If he was a soldier, people would say killed in action and technically speaking, the term applied here as well.

Or would as he was likely not dead yet, the hit – while fatal – had not killed him instantly which would have been far more merciful than whatever long, dragged-out suffering that was ahead of him, that he did not deserve because he had been a good person, a great agent and a wonderful father.

She came to a sliding halt, her feet rooted firmly into the ground and kneeling halfway down as her left hand found her gun. She took aim and it was not before she had fired her own shot that she realised that she could have aimed for incapacitation instead for death but as the man who had shot Chres had aimed at Gildarts or Silver, she tried not to feel too guilty and this was easier than it should have been. The familiar feeling of sickness settled in her stomach but she forced it back, reminded herself that if the man had not shot Chres, she would not have had to kill him.

“Good shot,” someone called out to her but she did not feel like answering as she straightened up and stumbled down the alleyway until she reached the fallen agent who was still clinging to his consciousness although the wound was fatal and he probably knew it.

And her heart bled as she sank down to her knees by his side, her hand covering his. “Sorry,” she said because she was feeling guilty. If she had been there faster, if she had not thrown her little temper tantrum which had slowed them down, he might have a fair chance to survive. The other guy had fired the bullet but she had been the one to leave him in range of said bullet for a little too long.

“Don’t cry,” he said as he weakly squeezed her hand. “C’mon, it’s sad enough … for me to die in a dirty alleyway. Don’t make it sadder.”

A part of her wanted to protest – it was sad enough that he was dying and it was even sadder that it was her fault – but she realised that in truth, she had lost him a long time ago. The world had lost Chres Vastia the day he had lost his wife because he had never been the same afterwards, holding on to life because of his son but not for himself. He had never been the same again after she had been buried but no one could say that this made it less sad that he was dying now as well.

And he had been good at making it look like he was still the same person he had always been because until this very moment, she had been deceived by him which made the wound her heart had suffered even more painful.

“You were good,” she said as she let go of her gun to rest her second hand atop of his badge, the badge that had been bloodied. “No, you were great, Chres. One of the very best.”

“I fucked up, in the end,” he said and bitterness was reflected in his eyes. “I didn’t see…”

“Sssh,” she said as she felt the familiar red coating her fingertips. Years back, she would have flinched because she had never liked the way blood felt so damn sticky but she was no longer a junior agent who had graduated from university after studying architecture; she was a seasoned agent and blood no longer bothered her because she had grown immune to it.

She did not need to hear it. She knew what he was going to say and she did not feel like she would be able to listen to his explanations because it would make it hurt even more and she felt like she had had suffered enough. It was not like Chres and her had ever had a mental link like he had shared one with Marvell who was going to freak out upon this once she had entirely rationalised it but Ur had known him for long enough to read his eyes when he was not saying much.

But because she knew him so well, she knew that he was going to say it whether she wanted to hear it or not and so she braced herself for it.

“Sorry,” he muttered as he reached up, coughing up blood as he pressed his crimson-covered hand against her cheek. “I think I promised you to never make you cry, after _that guy_.”

 _That guy_ was no one less than Bane Milkovich and Ur was pleasantly surprised when she realised that she had not thought about the man in months now because she had been preoccupied with work and a certain co-worker who was slowly getting under her skin which was highly unpleasant for her. No one she had ever been close to had liked Bane. It had reached from open antagonism which had been Gildarts way to go to not-so-subtle sabotage – courtesy from Ivan because no one else would ever have been able to get something of this sort past her in the first place.

(Maybe, if she had really loved Bane, it would have bothered her truly but like this, it had been merely a slight annoyance in her book.)

“You haven’t made me cry yet,” she said grimly as she pressed her lips into a thin line, using so much force that it genuinely hurt. He would make her cry. She had gotten used to his company and losing it would hurt her. “But … I am scared … so you probably will.”

It had been awfully long since the last time she had been terrified of something because nothing she could control had the power to become a fear of hers. She could not control death and she could not know how it would be after he was gone. This vagueness was what got to her and this was why she was slightly terrified.

And because death was getting closer to her – it had been long since she had lost a comrade.

“Don’t be scared,” he said as he wiped a drop of crimson off his lips. “You are stronger than that.”

She understood what he was saying although he was losing focus and would likely pass on soon. There was not much time left for her and a part of her wanted to apologise for making his death possible but she knew him too well to do this to him as he would never appreciate this. When Chres told her that she was too strong for fear, it was because he knew that it was the idea of having to figure life with someone important missing all over again that scared her and because he was too selfless to be real, he reminded her of her independence rather than to talk about his death.

Her fingertips pressed against his heart, she felt how the rate went down bit by bit. The bullet had caused internal bleeding and aside from the fact that he was dying slowly – which was something she wished for no one – he was literally drowning in his own blood and this thought made her feel sick.

But she kept talking to distract him, to make it easier for him to slip from this world into the next. It was hard on her because as she had not been in the field for so long, it had been a long time since she had talked someone into his death – but it was something that was probably impossible to forget. The last time, she had been still with NAHA and she had bit back her own tears while her teammate had bled to death right in front of her and she had been unable to stop the goddamn bleeding.

(It had taken her two weeks to scrub the last remains of Joan’s blood off her hands.)

“I’ll finish the job for you,” she promised.

It had always scared her for reasons she could not even comprehend, the idea of dying while there was business left unfinished. Only criminals deserved to die while thinking that there would be something left open.

“You told Joan the same, didn’t you?” he asked with a faint smile and she mused if he was angry at her for repeating an old promise. One she had, of course, kept.

“And I did keep it,” she said as she bent over, cradling as much of his broken form to herself as she could. “It’ll be awfully hard without you, though, but no worries – I’ll be fine.”

It would be hard to go down to his office to get something from the other agents working there. She had been through it a few times before, she knew what it was like. She would likely end up taking a break from going there because people like Chres, they were hard to get over because they left a void, an emptiness behind that was nearly impossible to be filled.

She had been happy when she had joined ECID after Ivan had invited her because she had known a few agents from the department and they had been all the sort of people she liked to work with – dedicated, on-task, ambitious. It had been easy to become friends with them and although she had known better after NAHA, she had allowed herself to get attached.

“Maybe you should start listening … to Clive, then,” he said before a violet fit of coughs shook him and she looked into the distance, eyes narrowed, because if she should look at him, she would start to cry and she was not going to do this. “He cares about you, ‘sea. A lot.”

“He meddles around a lot,” she said as she remembered the fight she had had with her ex-partner about her rekindled interest in dating. Rationally speaking, Gildarts had been right when he had accused her of running away from something but he had been wrong – as usual – about the something. He had suspected that she was trying to distract herself from her worry about Chres which had been, as it was just proven, justified this time around when she had been far too absorbed in her frustration with herself to properly worry about her old friend.

And the reason why she had been so damn frustrated with herself was strolling closer just as the heartbeat faded away completely.

Chres Vastia was dead.

* * *

**to give my gun away when it's loaded**

* * *

 

Gildarts did not know what he was supposed to say because he doubted that anything could be even remotely helpful. Agent Vastia had been one of the eight Level 4 agents of ECID and he had been one of the best agents Gildarts had ever had the pleasure to work with because no matter how annoying the man’s eternal optimism had been at times, he had been damn good at his job and he had done what he had had to do without much of a spectacle around it.

And now, he was dead and Gildarts could not even really comprehend it because the man had gone five years without a single scratch and now, he had fallen after a single shot, had drowned in his own blood which was a cruel death and this was not fair but then, what on earth _was_ fair?

“Ur,” Gildarts said weakly as he bent down, resting his hands on her shaking shoulders. She was not crying, that would come later, but she was despairing over this which was her good right, she had known the man best. “Listen, I called headquarters, they’ll come collect him. There will be a funeral, he’ll be awarded for his bravery – don’t do _this_ to me now.”

And with this he meant the inevitable reaction that would kick in once she would get a hold on herself. Ur would rage, she would demand answers. And this, too, was her good right. She had lost a friend today, a friend whom she had loved dearly for a very long time. It was her right – both as a friend and an agent – to demand answers. And she would certainly receive her answers because the fool who would have the gall to deny Ur Lund her rights when she was upset was probably not even born yet.

“How am I going to explain Lyon?” she asked and her voice fell nearly apart, her hands shaking as they were still clasped around the man’s badge. He knew that she would keep the golden mark, for two reasons. First of all, Ur would be Vastia’s successor and as such, she would get a badge of a Level 4 agent at some point anyway. And secondly, the only thing that was bigger than her brain was her heart and she was a sentimental person at times, no matter how many times she went and claimed that she was entirely heartless.

(She was not, god, Gildarts _knew_ but right now, he nearly wished for her heart to be a little colder because maybe then she would not hurt so much over the death of her friend.)

“You don’t have to explain Lyon anything,” he replied as he rubbed her shoulders in a hopefully soothing manner. “I can do this for you; you don’t have to do something—”

“Duty,” she said and there was no bitterness in her voice for a brief moment, just the sadness of a woman who had lost too many and too much not to know the meaning of this word. He had to hand it to her, he was not sure if he would be able to collect himself – even if it was with great effort and likely only for a few moments – this soon after a tragic incident, such as the death of a comrade. “I’ll go talk to Lyon. I owe as much to both of them. It’s important to honour our dead.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he said as he collected her gun from the ground where she had dropped it after taking down Vastia’s killer. “Ur – it was not. You are one hell of an agent – but even you can’t stop a bullet that was shot already.”

He had to get it into her head, this time. He could not risk losing her again over the death of someone she had cared about – could not watch her fall apart over something she had never had a chance of preventing. He loved his stupidly brilliant ex-partner a little too much to watch her return to her empty little shell all over again, just because no one had been there to anchor her in the reality.

“I know,” she said as she rose, slipping the bloodstained badge into her pocket, seemingly without thinking about her actions. “God, Gil, I know … just … give me a moment, yes? Please. I – I will catch up, go talk to Fullbuster or Marvell … Chres and I have so much history and I need a moment for myself. Don’t be mad, yes?”

And he listened to her because she seemed to be stable enough although she would need a shower because she was covered in blood, blood she had seemingly not even noticed yet. It was a difficult walk away from her because she could impossibly see this through alone, she had never had this amount of emotional strength – not even before that terrorist had set out to make her life a living hell by playing exactly into her weaknesses.

And she had them, she had always had them, too.

“Is Lund okay?” Agent Marvell asked as she wrapped her jacket closer around herself, wiping a stray tear away from the corner of her eye. Another woman who was not able to maintain an ice cold façade when faced with the death of someone she had been close to, another woman who was only human in the end, another woman who bled and suffered just like everyone else – it was a humbling realisation for Gildarts. “She and Vastia have been close, after all.”

“He was your partner,” Gildarts said, as if this would make any difference. Indeed, Chres Vastia had been the partner of Grandine Marvell but he doubted that they had ever been as close to each other as Ur and Gildarts himself which made sense, in a way. It had always seemed odd for them to be paired with each other because their personalities clashed too much and he was pretty sure that Vastia did not have the dragon tattoo Marvell and a few other agents had, a symbol of their old bonds and their friendship that ran so deep that they had all gotten the same tattoo – which was more than just slightly disturbing in Gildarts’ opinion.

“And I could do absolutely nothing to prevent this,” she replied, gritting her teeth. “He was a damn good agent, he will be missed. But you know what they say about the good.”

“The good die young but the great will last,” Fullbuster supplied, not quite as helpful as Gildarts would have wished him to be but then, not everyone could be sensitive enough to say the right things and to ask the right questions when faced with the death of another agent. “Say – Ur and Vastia used to date, correct?”

Not exactly the appropriate question to ask, given that Vastia was not even cold yet but it was a question that was surely interesting enough to consider and Gildarts could not even blame his partner for asking, it was generally easier to move through a conversation when it was clear where the old pain was buried.

“Yes,” Marvell said as she sighed deeply, her red lips thin and yet bright against her pale skin and her silver hair. “I think they went and messed up being ‘in love’ with loving each other … anyway, I hope he rests in peace – I should go, tell his son what happened.”

“Ur said she was going to do this,” Gildarts replied as he rested his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I think she should do it – maybe that will jumpstart the catharsis she needs.”

“Or it will hurt her even more,” the silver-haired woman said as she cracked her knuckles. “But who am I to stand into the way of a woman who actually wants to take that part?”

Gildarts knew that Ur did not necessarily want to have to tell a little boy that his father was not coming come again but he knew that if there was someone who might be able to truly relate to the boy’s pain, it would be Ur and she had ever been good at handling those situations with the necessary care because she had understood that each person, each child reacted entirely different to this.

“Marvell – would you mind it very much if we would nick some of Vastia’s files from his desk?” Fullbuster asked in a moment of rare enlightenment which nearly managed to impress Gildarts. “Nothing serious just … after he got shot, he said something to Lund about not seeing something that was perhaps in his files all along so…”

Gildarts nearly commended his partner on not losing focus although the situation was grim but then, he remembered that Fullbuster never lost his focus over something as unimportant as another person’s death because, as he would say, there was nothing he could still do after the person’s heart had stopped beating. Gildarts liked to imagine that this meant that his partner rather focused on those they could save but he was never quite sure.

“Let me give you some advise,” Marvell said as she signed the form that would officially permit them to move files and evidence around, “don’t throw a party for Lund when she gets promoted – hell, you’ll probably all get promoted over the course of this month – because there is nothing beautiful in having to step onto a friend’s corpse to get to a higher level.”

“I actually think that even if Vastia had made it, Lund would not have wanted this promotion,” Fullbuster said and he was probably right; Ur had been pretty weird lately when someone had mentioned the topic of promotions which was not exactly her style, usually. She was not in the job for the career but it was not like she had ever minded climbing up in the ranks because a higher rank meant better options on deciding about the details of a mission all by herself.

“Agent Marvell, gentlemen,” Ur said as she appeared by their side, her cheeks pale – expect for where she carried a handprint that had been left there in blood – but her eyes dry. Tears would come soon, likely when she was on her own, but not yet. “I think it’s time to leave the field to others. Could you drop me off at Vastia’s apartment?”

“So you are going to do it now?” Marvell asked as she gulped. “You sure that you’re ready?”

“Actually no. I am frightened and I’m hurting but – Lyon deserves absolute honesty, no phrases I come up with for my own comfort,” she said as she traded her blood-stained jacket for a clean one, courtesy of one of Dreyar’s assistants. “This is my pain and it’s my choice to handle it in a way that does not paralyse me.”

Gildarts could not help it, he cracked a smile. Yes, this was the Ur he had known before Deliora had become the rain on her parade. She was not fearless but she did not allow herself to let the fear control her. The fear belonged to her but she did not belong to the fear – she was in charge and she would continue that way.

(Maybe she was not as broken as he thought her to be, maybe she had relearned to bounce back from everything that happened to her.)

“…did Vastia say anything about his kid?” Marvell asked and there was a rare tenderness in her face. The woman was such a raging storm on most days – a hurricane to Ur’s blizzard, without a doubt – and it was easy to forget that somewhere beneath her cynicism, she still cared and just pretended that she had stopped.

“He said a lot, to distract himself from the pain but he did not talk about Lyon – maybe because that would have hurt too much,” Ur said with a hollow laugh, “but for the moment, I’ll see what I can do for him. I’ve been Chres’ emergency contact so it’ll be fine – and for the future, I am certain that he included it in his will. He was a lot of things – but not arrogant enough to believe himself immortal.”

* * *

**to be the last one standing**

* * *

Ivan had heard the news and he was still thinking about a way to respectfully express his regret about the agent’s death when he opened the door to the office that was, in a way, his as well by now and instantly took a step back because Ur was sitting on her desk, her posture flawless and her eyes dry. “…didn’t expect you here today,” he said after a moment as he approached her, a sigh leaving his lips. “I would have guessed that you’d stay at home.”

She huffed, lifting her gaze from the keyboard. “I would have gone insane at home,” she said as she signed a report with more force than necessary. “I won’t stay long – I just wanted to get this out of the way before I take Lyon out for lunch … he wanted to show me the bistro—” And then, her voice just dies and she shook for a second before she closed her eyes, forcing herself to contain her grief, and continued. “As I was saying, Lyon wants to show me the bistro where he used to eat with his father.”

Ivan sighed. He had made his experiences with grief but it was different for everyone. He remembered the sadness of the day when his grandfather had died but the man had been very old and so it had been sad but not as tragic as it was that a young man, a father had been ripped out of their lives by a bullet. “…how’s the kid holding up?” he asked instead because it might be wiser not to expect Ur to be able to explain what Chres Vastia had been to her in the moment of his death – aside from a fellow agent, a friend.

“Better than I expected,” she said as she stopped herself, likely wondering what exactly she had had expected. “It is difficult for him, of course. He lost his father and he understands that his father won’t come back.”

Ivan followed her gaze and found the white-haired boy sleeping on the couch, the traces of tears dried on his face. “You know, you’ll probably end up being responsible for him,” he said because this was what he had been thinking about half the night. “Everyone knows that Vastia trusted you most.”

She remained silent for a moment before she stapled the report with far more focus than necessary, considering that she had been doing this for years. “So what?” she asked, her face an expression of defiance. “I remind you, Doctor Dreyar, that I am a more than capable agent of ECID. I doubt that I would fail this task. If he entrusted his son to me, it’ll be a honour for me to abide his wish and raise Lyon.”

“…nice answer,” he said as he raised his eyebrow. “But a little stiff, you shouldn’t have practiced it that much, Ur. It’s okay to admit that you are scared out of your mind – you did not sign up for something like this.”

She really had not. She had been dragged into this mess when she had been a young agent of NAHA who had had the misfortune of being assigned to the task force dealing with the bombings all over the country. This was how she had met Chres Vastia who was, in some ways, her reflection. This was why Ivan had never quite believed that they would have made decent couple, they had been too alike from the start. Vastia had been a bright man and he had been the link to NAHA when the both agencies had had to work together.

“Do you regret ever working with ECID?” he asked as he gently dragged her away from her desk and into the kitchen where he suspected tea while he briefly mused where on earth Clive and Fullbuster were hiding. He had dragged her into this mess when he had asked her to switch agencies, when he had tempted her with an offer that had been too good for her to refuse – so maybe this was why he felt a little guilty right now.

“…no,” she said quietly as she leaned against the counter, a sigh leaving her lips. “I don’t regret any of my steps. And I will be okay, soon. _Really okay_ , okay even by your standards … and Heartfilia’s.”

This sounded nearly too good to be true, especially since it implied that she had finally decided to accept the blonde woman’s help. Maybe the death of her friend had opened her eyes that they all could die and that there was a time and a place to hide from painful truths but that this was neither of them. He would appreciate it as it would ease his worries about her.

“What caused the sudden change of mind?” he asked because he wanted to know, wanted to know how on earth a single man’s death had managed to influence her on such a deep level.

“I’m twenty-nine now,” she said as she poured hot water over the tea leaves, a pensive expression on her face. “And, you know, I can either live the rest of my life with a mind that is a time bomb that endangers myself and all of you … or I can do the responsible thing … and if Chres really went and put Lyon into my care upon his death, well, all the more reason for this.”

“I didn’t know him well,” Ivan said as he gently rubbed her shoulder, “but I know that he trusted you … and that he knew you well, that he would never have _expected_ something—”

“Please not now,” she said as she sat down the scratched her neck, a sigh escaping her. “We had each others’ back, Ivan. That’s all there really was. I was not in love with him. I grieve the loss of a friend, the loss of a man who is the father of a little boy – I don’t mourn the love of my life or something equally ridiculous.”

 _“Ridiculous?”_ Ivan asked as he felt how rare anger grew inside of him. He knew that she was hurt but this did not give her the right to call love a ridiculous emotion. _Irrational_ , yes. But never ridiculous. And if he knew this, he would have assumed that she had long faced those facts as well. Ur was better with people than he had ever been and yet, she seemed to struggle with her own demons and this was saddening. And yet, it gave him a sort of hope because as crazy as it sounded, he had always hoped for the chance to teach her something valuable – just like she had taught him so many things as well – ranging from the way to prepare coffee he never drunk to telling jokes in a way that made people realise that he, too, was human.

“Not … ridiculous-ridiculous,” she said and he sighed because for a genius, Ur could sometimes be rather silly in what she said because she sounded like a first grader talking about a crush. “You know – I do believe in love. Hell, I even believe in soul mates.”

“You believe into platonic soul mates, _pumpkin_ ,” he said and it was hard to use the nickname her grandfather used to freely without snorting because it was plain ridiculous. “You believe into soul mates who know you so well that they reflect yourself … and that no one can stand being around such a soul mate for long.”

“My, then I certainly hope that I’m not your soul mate, _Bambi_ ,” Fullbuster drawled from where he was standing in the doorframe, a grin on his face. “Because I’d hate to leave you alone.”

“No worries, Fullbuster, the one who held the mirror into my face died a long time ago,” Ur replied drily as she stepped away from the counter, a bored expression on her face.

“Ur,” Clive said as he appeared behind Fullbuster, a serious expression on his face. “How many hours of sleep did you have?”

She did not even bother with a lie, this time. “Five,” she admitted after a short moment in this she was silent, likely to consider her answer. “Look, Gil, I am goo—”

Her claim fell onto deaf ears as her ex-partner moved in and knocked her out without leaving much of a sound, catching her as she crumbled. “Sorry, ‘sea,” he muttered as he lifted her up, “but I really don’t think that you are okay today … we’ll keep an eye on her and the brat while we work … who even started that damn trend with bringing kids to work, anyway?”

They never really got to discuss this aspect although Ivan was surely interested in how the policies regarding this matter actually were as he had a son at home and Roxanne could fall ill one day as well.

They never got to talk about it because a certain man who likely thought himself to be the second coming of Casanova himself had made an appearance.

Ivan had never been Bane Milkovich’s biggest fan and this had not changed when the man had not only dated Ur, no, they had even been engaged until Ur had broken up with him when she had fallen into a deep black hole after the little girl had been killed on her watch. In any case, it should be common sense that Agent Milkovich was not exactly welcome in the office of their team. Sadly, this seemed to be a little too complicated for the man to realise because he was lounging in the doorway, blond hair sliced back and the most insufferable smirk on his face as he glanced over to Ur who was on the couch, still out cold.

Or better said: he ogled her which instantly bothered the medical examiner – and from the way Clive and Fullbuster were looking, they were not too happy either.

The reappearance of Bane Milkovich was an event as unpleasant as it had been predictable. The man worked for Zinnia’s department of criminal investigations and was especially focused on drug-related cases and every once in a while, he showed up in Era to ruin Ivan’s day and, if the foolish man was especially annoying, Ivan’s entire week.

Given those facts, it was unsurprising that Ivan had hoped that Bane Milkovich would disappear from his life for longer than merely a few months, well, nearly two years. The problem was not even that the blond man was personally offensive towards Ivan. The problem was that Milkovich’s arrival had always been a warning that there was more to come – more violence, more chaos, more tears … more things Ivan did not like at all.

Half a year back, on a good day, Ur had likened her ex-fiancé to a paper cut. Not painful, not especially harmful – just very annoying. It had been one of her best metaphors in Ivan’s opinion and he had wondered why she had ever given the other agent the time of the day when she was making it so damn hard for anyone else who was having an interest in her.

(No, Fullbuster was not exactly subtle.)

Compared to other catastrophes Ur had called relationships, Ivan supposed, Milkovich had been a lesser evil because he had been too smart to cheat w hich had dragged the progress out because Ur had not really had a reason to end things and she had never been one to abandon a comfortable situation if there was nothing for her to win on the other side of the coin.

Ivan knew that in the end, it had not been about coffee which had been the official explanation for why the then-best female agent of ECID had broken up with the most skilled agent of ZCID all of a sudden. Ur could be shallow in her reasoning, especially when it made it easier for her to make a bad decision, but she was not the type to pretend to be superficial enough to end a relationship about bad coffee.

It had just been a nice little lie that had suited her best in her messed up state.

In Ivan’s humble and entirely professional opinion, it was lucky for everyone that Ur and Milkovich had not worked out. He could even justify this opinion with a better argument than Clive’s _“Oh, c’mon, Ur Milkovich sounds horrible!”_ but unless he was asked – and who ever asked him? – he would not mention that they lived in a world where it was difficult to find a good match and that he had never been fond of so-called power couples because when they were done burning the world, they could only torch each other down.

But it was time for someone to address the elephant in the room and while Clive glared and Fullbuster was confused, Ivan was the one to play the polite host although he wanted to poison the man’s coffee. No one had ever said that Ivan was an angel and it would never happen either because as long as he did it for the right reasons, he did not really feel guilty for about anything – which did not mean that he had not felt bad about Ur’s slow fall.

“Milkovich,” he said, saving the agent for a later point of time, “what is the matter?”

“Doctor Dreyar,” Milkovich said with the smuggest facial expression which increased Ivan’s wish to just get over with it by breaking the man’s nose. “It has been a while.”

“Could have been longer,” Clive muttered and the medical examiner found himself agreeing silently. “What do you want, Milkovich?”

The other man was silent – a blissful state he could never maintain for long – as his cold blue eyes travelled across his ex-fiancée’s body in a way that would have made Ivan want to shower afterwards if he was in Ur’s skin.

“I came to deliver my condolences,” he said, his voice too smooth to be genuine. “She got more muscular.”

For a moment, Ivan tried to remember how Vastia had stood to Bane Milkovich before he remembered that the deceased agent had been first on a leave after his wife’s untimely death and then on a long-term assignment while the man from Zinnia had been a topic of importance in Ur’s life. But even so it was not hard to guess that someone with a moral integrity like Chres Vastia had never been fond of a man who spun lies like Rumplestiltskin spun straw to gold. And Vastia had – for all his flaws – never been fond of anyone who needed to belittle others to feel good and this was something Milkovich had done quite frequently.

“She got more time for proper workout these days,” Clive said as he pressed his lips together. “And as you can see, she is asleep.”

“Asleep or knocked out because she got a little too intense for your liking, Clive?” the blond man asked and Ivan roughly estimated that the only one who did not want to break the jerk‘s nose (or his neck) would be Lyon which was a strangely entertaining realisation.

“She lost Vastia,” Fullbuster hissed at the other man. “Show some respect for her loss, honestly. No manners, the youth these days.”

Milkovich was, of course, older than all of them, a thirty-six to Ivan’s thirty-four so it was not exactly smart of Fullbuster who was three years younger than the man in question to call the intruder a disrespectful youth but it was all about making a point and no one could say that Silver Fullbuster was bad at the game with words. It had surprised Ivan to find out about Bane Milkovich’s age which had occurred when he had snooped around, running a background check on his friend’s new flame. It had surprised him because the man had been seven years older than Ur and this was a lot.

* * *

**when words aren’t warm enough to keep away the cold**

* * *

 

When Chres Vastia had been still alive, he had lived in a nice home. Silver knew this because he had gotten roped into ‘clean out’ duty by Ur. This stupid little crush he had on her was slowly getting out of control, seriously. But because he had a heart – one he sometimes liked to ignore – and because she had looked like she had been about to cry, he had agreed to tag along, especially when Clive had promised him that there would be wine.

(That the wine would be from the dead man’s cellar was something no one had ever mentioned to him, by the way.)

(And that was awkward.)

It was a weird situation for him to be in the house of a man who had been something like a rival because they had both liked the same woman although neither of them had ever had any intentions on acting upon those feelings. Silver had never gotten into a situation where it would have been appropriate to actually make a move on his colleague and while Vastia had had countless chances – they had been in the same hand-to-hand-combat training group after all – he had known better than to actually do something because he had had his chance and he had wasted it, had passed it up.

His loss, actually, because it probably took an actual idiot to break up with a woman who came with a truly unique and very impressive set of skills. Silver would not have an idea as stupid as that – but it was unlikely that she would ever date him in the first place so the entire point was pretty much moot.

But while Clive and Ur had disappeared to get something to drink and snacks – as Lyon was Vastia’s only heir and Ur had been appointed as the kid’s legal guardian, this was legally okay – he was strolling through the house, looking around. There were little trinkets everywhere. Trophies won in various competitions, pictures drawn by the dead man’s late wife – and a million other little details that made obvious that the house had been a home.

Passing the kitchen’s entrance, he could not help but overhear the conversation that had just started between the both missing agents and although Silver knew better than to eavesdrop, he did it nonetheless.

“Milkovich showed up,” Gildarts said as he opened the wine bottle. It still seemed to be highly unethical to drink a man’s wine after his funeral but as Ur had declared, there was no way to handle any of this is a way that was proper and she had been probably right about it.

“I suppose this should surprise me,” the woman said slowly as she handled the wine glasses with great care as she put them down in a neat row. “But truly – it does not. The man is like a vulture, circling over my head, willed to strike the moment I appear to be defeated.”

There was bitterness in her voice as she took the wine bottle from Clive and poured the crimson liquid into the glasses before she rested the empty bottle in the kitchen sink. There was a way in her movements that was unusual, that made it clear that she was not allowing herself to show her true colours.

“I never got why you loved him in the first place,” Clive said and although it had been such a long time, his disbelief was still blatant and seemed absolutely genuine. “I mean – he was always as much of a jerk as he is now.”

“Maybe I simply got a thing for people who are bad for me,” she replied before she opened the cupboard, getting out a box of chocolates.

“That might explain the way you go all heart-eyed over—”

“If you really think that’s _heart-eyed_ , I’d suggest for you to get your eyes checked,” she replied sharply, keeping Silver from finding out whom she was supposedly attracted to which was really a shame because in the best case, it would be him and in the not-best case, he could tease her about it. “And this is neither the time nor the place for this conversation. I’ll handle it and it won’t interfere with my work performance.”

“Just don’t do something stupid,” Clive muttered as he rested two bottles of white wine in the refrigerator which indicated that there would be plenty to drink.

“What kind of stupid do you mean?” she inquired, arranging the sweets she had found on a tray, biting her lip as she pushed everything around until it met her aesthetic standards.

“Sleeping with the ex to get someone else out of your system stupid,” Silver’s partner said drily, the roll of his eyes audible which was quite a feat. It was extremely rare for anyone to acknowledge that she was indeed a grown woman and that it was highly unlikely that she had spent the night playing scrabble when she arrived in yesterday’s clothes for work which had happened exactly one time in the past months – not that he had paid attention or something equally ridiculous.

“You know, you aren’t the only one whose exes are either dead or morally derailed,” Ur said grimly as she grabbed the tray, turning away from the counter. “And Milkovich counts as both – he’s dead to me and he is absolutely on the villains’ side in this mess.”

“You’re never going to forgive him for the stunt he pulled, I assume?” Clive asked and Silver decided that this was a good moment to step into the kitchen, the way he had planned it from the start and to interrupt them as he was pretty sure that he would not get more interesting information from lurking outside the room and it would have increased the risk of getting caught by Dreyar who was somewhere in the house, probably texting his wife.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked innocently as he leaned against the doorframe. “If I am, I’ll wait in the living room but I was wondering whether you two need a chaperone.”

“Gil was just goading me into a rant about his nemesis because aside from him, no one dislikes that man more than I do,” she scoffed as she nearly broke the tray in her hands as she set it down again. “And I was _engaged_ to the guy.”

“Not exactly something I’d brag with if I were you,” Silver said with a roll of his eyes. He had thought that the tales he had heard about Bane Milkovich before actually meeting the guy had been highly exaggerated because he had always sounded like the world’s biggest jerk and he had been willed to give Ur the benefit of a doubt that she would not have been in a very serious relationship seemingly everyone hated.

(And this had included Layla of all people.)

“Believe me, I wouldn’t,” she scoffed as she left the room with the food, heading towards the living room. “I talked with Lyon about today’s goals. We will mostly focus on things like clothes that can be sold but aren’t something Lyon would like to keep. Things he wants to keep at any cost have been marked with red dots.”

It was odd how natural this seemed to sound, how much sense it made. But Silver was not going to ask any questions because he did not want to get caught up in the fights that would occur soon enough. It would be fortunate if everyone could act like an adult in all situations but this was sadly not possible because everyone was very tense these days.

(Not that he could blame anyone.)

The funeral had been mere days ago and although a certain sense of normality had returned already, it was obvious that everything had changed when Vastia had been killed and he was not sure how he liked this.

Silver had been the only one Dreyar had told what exactly had killed the white-haired man and so far, the field agent had yet to figure out why no one else had had to hear this story. It made no sense to tell a single member of the team the part of the report the others did not get to see, especially considering that Silver had barely known the victim. But the details had been of the kind that unsettled even Silver because it had been mostly about the bullet. The medical examiner had been furious about the idea that someone was actually using outlawed bullets, bullets that had been forbidden for a very good reason – and one of them was that it made the death so much more cruel and painful than it had to be.

(Silver himself had always preferred a short and merciful death.)

“I handle the books,” Dreyar said quietly, looking away from his phone while he reached for one of the boxes they had brought. “Lyon said he wants to sell those no one wants so that he can pay for stuff later on in his life, right?”

“I’ll handle the study and stuff like that,” Clive said as he snatched a bit of chocolate of the tray before he ruffled Ur’s hair in passing. “And let’s not forget, folks, we do this because it has to be done, not because it’s an investigation.”

“This is important to keep in mind, yes,” Ur confirmed as she leaned against the wall, her face oddly pale which reminded him why he was here. Not because it had turned into a team activity or because he wanted to find secrets but because she was not okay but would probably deny this on her death bed and he was in no mood for her little games.

He did not follow her as they spread out, covering as much ground as possible. He was no creepy stalker – he left that part to her ex-fiancé – but he would still be there if something happened, if she would finally have a breakdown.

“Drinking a dead man’s wine while cleaning out his home,” Silver muttered as he opened another drawer. “This seems really wrong, even to me.”

“Oh, don’t make a big deal out of it,” Ur said as she appeared in the doorframe, twirling the glass between her fingers before she took another sip. “This is one of the nastiest sides of the job, one you can only handle with alcohol.”

It was obvious that she had done this sort of thing before, the way she went through the dead man’s earthly possessions without paying too much attention to what she was doing seemed like a skill she had attained a long and rocky road. And she had been in a field where people died, perhaps not all the time but considerably more frequently than in other businesses.

“Excuse me but it’s nothing I ever did before so it kinda is a big deal to me,” he said with a huff while he opened a closet, staring at shoes. “Any pointers on how I am supposed to handle this?”

“The last time Gil and I did this was when Joan had just died,” she replied as she started to go through a bunch of ties she had found in a drawer, sighing deeply. “Joan was Gil’s girlfriend back in those days, a wonderful agent … pretty as the devil and smart as a whip.”

To think and to talk about this event was obviously not exactly easy for her and he knew better than to ask questions because he had walked in on one of her episodes once and then, Dreyar had been there to talk her through it. He was not sure how he would fare if it was just him and the problem that lived inside her mind, eating away her happiness.

“It took me months to go to work without expecting her to sit in my chair, to drink my coffee,” she went on as she furiously rolled the ties into orderly little packages before she neatly put them away. “It made it hard to breathe for me … because Gil was hurting and I knew that it was my fault.”

She went on, explained a bit more how Joan – he never got a last name out of her – had fallen during a surprise attack on one of NAHA’s many bases all over the country and that the bullet had not meant for her but for Ur which had added to a lot of tension between the ice queen and her partner.

“You could say that Gil and I were finished as a team after Joan was killed,” she shrugged as she neatly folded prim and proper black suits and rested them into another box, her eyes obscured by her hair. “We hang on but…”

He remained silent as he went through the shoes, throwing a especially old and dirty pair directly into the trash. “Sounds like it was a hard time,” he said as he mused how much longer it would take before she would permanently leave the team in favour of something better, of something where her talents would be appreciated far more.

“It really was,” she said as she shrugged, dropping what she was doing to casually sling one arm around his shoulders. “I do appreciate you helping out although you hardly knew Chres.”

“I suppose this is something you do for the living and not for the dead,” he said with a shrug as he wondered how a simple officer had been able to pay for so many cufflinks because since he had started to tidy everything up, this had been the twelfth pair he had come across off.

“I suppose you are right,” she said as she sighed deeply, running both hands through her hair before she slumped down on a chair, reaching for her glass and taking a generous sip of it. “I’ll have fun explaining this whole situation to my family,” she added before she scoffed, her voice dropping a few octaves as she spoke again. “Oh no, Ursea! Now you’ll never find a husband!”

“Didn’t know you were actively looking for one,” he said before he stopped. She had been dating again lately, had she not? So maybe this had been less about getting some sort of distraction from the mess she had gotten herself into and more future-husband-search. Not that he would care about this. _At all._

“That’s probably because I am not,” she said and the wine – it had to be the wine, he decided – left a shade of crimson on her face. “However, this would be what some people would prefer for me to do … to settle down and to retire from a dangerous profession.”

“That sounds more like you, really,” he muttered as he closed the boxes they had filled. Slowly, the room was turning more and more impersonal. Most truly personal possessions had already been removed, perhaps when Vastia’s actual team had started to clean it all out, and with clothes and other things in the boxes, it looked more like a hotel room than the bedroom of a man who had fallen on the line of duty, less than two weeks ago.

“If marriage was a top priority of mine, I’d probably be married already,” she shrugged as she kicked a box off the bed before she shook off her shoes and jumped onto it.

“This is really not appropriate, Agent Lund,” Silver said in mock shock but genuinely, he was merely confused because why on earth was she doing such a thing?

“Oh, shush,” she said as she finally jumped high enough to get a hold on something that had been on the lamp. “These are the letters he was writing for his team, in case something would ever happen to him.”

“Why would he do such a thing?”

“Because sometimes, those who are left behind need to know that it wasn’t their fault,” she said grimly as she stuffed the letters into her pocket. “I know where Gil keeps his.”

“And let me guess, he knows where you keep yours,” he said as he rolled his eyes. No matter what she had just said about how she and Clive had been finished as a team for years, they still worked as once because it was apparently engraved into their DNA to work together.

“Actually, no,” she replied as she raised an eyebrow at him. “I haven’t written the letters yet … because I don’t know what I’d write … plus, I have faith in my own abilities. I won’t die.”

“That’s what they all say before one bullet rips them apart,” he said as he rolled his eyes. He was the last person to try and tell her how she was supposed to handle her life but he did care enough to remind her that she was just mortal as well and that bad things could happen to her, that bad things usually happened to good people and that she was a good person.

“I suppose I got very used to know that in ninety percent of all cases, I shoot fast enough to stay alive,” she said with a shrug as she patted his shoulder. “But you are right, of course. I’ve to be careful. Now more than ever.”

“You can be actually pretty wise,” he said as he looked around in the room, sighing deeply. “So I suppose we’re done for today?”

“I’ll wrap the rest up this weekend,” she said as she grimaced. “Lyon said that he wants to help … it will be a painful experience for him but it’ll also help him to find closure.”

“Just be careful that you don’t end up getting hurt,” he said as he rolled his eyes, patting her head. “Clive says that the medical facilities are good but I’m not sure how they deal with injuries of the emotional sort.”

He did worry about her because the idea she seemed to have sounded like the one thing that could and probably would push her over the edge and into a very dark abyss. She had a bad history with wounds of the spirit, some of them that had never healed properly and it was careless of her to take risks again when even he could tell that she would not end up liking the results of the desperate heroism she was clinging to these days.

“Don’t worry about me,” she said as she smiled kindly up at him. “Believe it or not, I know exactly what I am doing here.”

“Do you?” he asked, directly questioning for the first time ever. She had a higher rank and she had done the job longer than he had but he had his own experiences and he felt like he was authorised to question the highest-ranking agent in their little group at least sometimes, when he was not sure if she was acting responsible.

“Like I said,” she said as she did something he would never have thought she would do: leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I know exactly what I am doing … but thank you for your concern, Silver. I really appreciate it.”

It was not often that Silver Fullbuster was at a loss for words but it was also rare that Ur Lund suddenly decided to kiss his cheek. Actually, this had never happened before and a part of him wanted to ask why but another told him that some questions were better left unasked because he would perhaps not like the answer she had in store for him.

“Oi, don’t go all sappy on me,” he said awkwardly as he looked away from her. “We have a reputation to uphold – aren’t we supposed to be the ice cold agents who handle the dangerous jobs without a trace of fear?”

“Oh, but we are,” she said as she picked up one of the boxes. “C’mon, we should see how the others are doing … and I bet that if we don’t show up soon, they’ll get ideas.”

Ideas that might actually be not quite as far off as they could be, for a change. But it was smarter not to think about it because things like this would only cause complications and he was rather sure that she was aware of the same thing. After all, she had once dated Chres Vastia and she had been there to watch how the man had bled out – and she would be stupid to ever date a fellow agent again. No, she was better off with some sort of accountant who lived a simple, peaceful life that did not include any dangers. So he would never mention this again.


	12. xii.

**counting the steps between us**

* * *

 

She was sitting on Layla’s couch. She had never seen any appeal in laying down for what was supposed to be therapy and she supposed that it was for the better because this way, she could treat it like a normal chat with a friend – only that this friend was very attentive and caught on far too easily. Then again, most of her friends were somehow connected to the business and everyone who wanted to survive as an agent had to notice more than just the obvious. In her best days, for example, Ur had been able to draw hundred-percent-correct conclusions from the smallest hints a suspect had given her – and to the day, there was no way someone could get aggression past Gildarts because the martial art expert would instantly pick up on the emotion and take the necessary action.

“So what made you change your mind about therapy, agent?” Layla asked and Ur turned her head, rolling her eyes at the blonde. It was, of course, technically a horrible crime to roll one’s eyes at someone as nice and kind and utterly helpful as Layla but Ur had always been someone who liked to live on the edge.

“I did not change my mind about it,” she scoffed as she reached for the cup of tea on the little table. “We haven’t spoken in a while.”

And this was entirely her own fault because ever since she had returned to the field, she had avoided certain parts of the building and Layla’s office was right between two offices she had avoided like the plague. At the same time, there had been little time for her to call her old friend to schedule some meeting outside of headquarters because coming back to the field after such a long absence had been difficult. She had always been supposed to be a tough woman and she had missed being on the field in the days when she had been working in her office because she had been in no state to go back outside but even after she had been cleared for field duty again, she had had to relearn how to be part of a team.

“We really haven’t,” Layla said patiently as she took a bite from a cookie. “How are you holding up?”

Ur sighed deeply. She heard this question all the time lately and it seemed like everyone had entirely forgotten that although she had once dated Chres, it had been years ago. It was not like she had been still in love when he had been killed but there was no way she could say this without giving away that there was someone she did like romantically at the moment. “I’m fine,” she said as she shrugged. “Really. This is not the first friend I’ve lost.”

“I don’t have to tell you how unhealthy this attitude is, yes?” the psychologist asked, disappointment written all over her face. “And you tend to make bad decisions when you are stressed out – like getting engaged to someone like Bane Milkovich.”

Ur did not need another lecture about why it had been a horrible idea for her to ever get involved with someone like this man and actually, she did not even remember why it had ever appeared to be a good idea for her in the first place. Bane had been the sort of man her father had approved of and this should already have been the first hint for her to run away because this could only end up badly. And it had ended badly. The official statement was that she had broken up with him after she had been traumatised by a mission but the truth was – as usual – considerably more complicated.

“I promise you that I won’t run off to get engaged to some idiot all over again, Lay,” she sighed as she looked away. She had met the blond back in university when they had literally ran into each other at the cafeteria where Ur had been building an impressive tower out of everything that had been in her reach when Layla had tripped over her own feet and had crashed straight into the building. They had been friends ever since and Layla knew Ur too well to be deceived by any of her lies – and this included the ones that fooled even Gildarts.

“Good god,” Layla said as she pushed herself up in her chair, “you already have done something you consider to be _awfully_ stupid. Ur Lund, what did you do this time and why do you beat yourself up over it?”

Layla was the only person who could break down Ur’s defences without tearing apart the woman as well. Perhaps it was because Layla had been there the whole damn time, never leaving. Even Gildarts who had been her partner for years had never been a constant in the way the blond woman was. But this did not change that Ur did not like having to admit that she had screwed up – and she had messed up with time around.

“I guess so, yeah,” she admitted as she buried her head in her hands, sighing deeply.

“What did you do and how are our chances to fix it before it gets out of hand?” Layla asked, drumming a nervous rhythm onto her own leg, a habit she shared with countless others and that never failed to unnerve Ur.

“…I haven’t been as well-adjusted lately,” the black-haired woman said carefully as she mused if she should tell Layla the full story, including the ice cold fear that had had her insides in an iron grip lately. She was no one who scared easily but she needed a certain control about what was happening and she felt how her prized control was slipping away.

“You have been extraordinarily irritated lately, this is true,” the doctor said as she raised a thin eyebrow. “I heard Milkovich stopped by…”

“I am so over him that I doubt I ever really was into him in the first place,” the field agent scoffed and this was true. It was difficult to explain what had possessed her to ever get involved with the self-absorbed man in the first place but even a genius like her might make mistakes from time to time. In all honesty, Ur did not need Layla to analyse the entire situation. She knew that in the end, she had not come quite as far as she liked to pretend since all those years ago. It was still the same problem, it just came in a different outer appearance these days. No one had to try and to be nice to her about the truth because it would hurt in any case and there was no way it would help her if she heard it in a nice way.

She had tried to be someone everyone would like a long time ago but she had realised that she could not be this kind of woman, that she could not make herself small just so that everyone else would look bigger, greater in comparison. It had been three days before NAHA had approached her that she had understood that she would end up ruining herself for good if she kept selling herself short, if she kept being an artist when her mind wanted so much more.

It had been strangely liberating for her to slip into a uniform and to become someone else. Some had said that the day she had sold her soul to NAHA, she had killed her old self but she would disagree. She had been in a cocoon for all those years and that day, she had left her shell and had become some kind of butterfly.

She had been a bit of a mess for a while. Her episodes had mostly stopped and the last time it had happened, she had managed to get through it without anyone’s help but at the same time, her nightmares had started again – and she had never been fond of seeing people she cared for die in far too many different ways in her dreams and her mind was good at coming up with new ways for them to die each night, perhaps because she had seen far too many people die along the years and this knowledge had been burned into her mind.

“I suppose I should act surprised at this sudden realisation but I really am not,” Layla scoffed as she reached for her notebook. “Don’t tell me you went ahead and developed feelings for Silver of all people, Ur. That’d be so cliché.”

Ur did not like the idea of being romantically attracted to a co-worker. It was exactly the sort of thing that would inevitably end in a real disaster because no matter how much she considered herself to be a good agent – and all capable agents did not allow themselves to make foolish mistakes out of an emotional attachment – she also knew that she sometimes messed up because her heart was too involved in an assignment.

“There’s a reason why clichés are considered to be what they are, Lay,” she scoffed, once more realising that she was probably the only one who had the nerve to scoff at Layla. Usually, she kept her less agreeable conversational habits under control when she was dealing with the blonde but whenever she felt like she was under some sort of pressure, she screwed up.

“Oh god,” the blonde exclaimed, shaking her head in disapproval. “You’re horrible!”

“I don’t need another lecture about why I favour people who appear to be—” Ur started but Layla had the nerve to interrupt her.

“No matter how much he tries to make it look that way, he isn’t that much of a bad boy, Ur,” the blonde said gently before she shrugged. “I mean – he has made mistakes. We all have.”

The agent snorted which was not exactly ladylike. She knew this. She had two eyes and a quick mind, two things that enabled her to analyse a situation thoroughly. In her opinion, Silver liked to appear as the bad guy. She did not know why, maybe because he did not want to disappoint anyone and if no one expected him to be more than what he pretended to be, they could not be upset with him that easily.

“He is on my team and I trust him,” the agent said seriously as she pressed her lips together. There were things she did not have to tell Layla and she had always been good at keeping secrets from people who were literally paid to learn everything about another person.

“Just be wise in your actions,” Layla said and Ur nearly rolled her eyes because she was supposed to be the genius around here. She knew what she was doing – or better said: what she would not do. And that was ever address her affection because the best way to deal with it was to just go ahead and ignore it. This appeared to be the smartest solution.

“Layla – I am not stupid,” she said as she reached over and patted her friend’s hand before she emptied the cup of tea standing on the little table. She was feeling restless all over again and this was dangerous for her because restlessness tempted her to take unnecessary risks.

“Could have fooled me, really.”

“I suppose,” Ur said as she got from the couch, smiling uneasily at her old friend, “that this would be a good time to go check up on some old friends … before I pick Lyon up from school.”

She had been alone for an awfully long time and she was not used to having to plan her day around someone else’s schedule but she acknowledged that this was necessary. Whether she was willed to admit it or not, Lyon was her family now and family stuck together – at least in theory.

Layla looked at her, brown eyes serious and wise as always. “I guess you made them all wait for you long enough, yes,” she then said as she crossed her arms over her chest and tried not to look too disapproving which was a lost cause because Ur always caught on.

“We’re all the damaged pawns of a chess game that has been long over,” she said before a shudder ran down her spine. It was true that there had been no agent of NAHA who had made it out of the mess in one piece. Some of them had died, others had gone dark side and the rest had ended up either numbed by the pain of their burden or they felt it all too well, no matter where they went.

Ur was someone who wished that she would have ended up numb after all the stuff she had been through. It might have made it easier for her deal with the stuff she had to deal with now but she could not help the way the behaviourism of the past was still in her bones, in her instincts, dominating her kinetic memory.

 _“I am aware,”_ the psychologist said and Ur remembered what she usually liked to forget; that Layla was handling more than just the Criminal Investigation Department of Era but also those of Zinnia and Crocus where other ex-agents of NAHA worked, slowly drifting in a more civilian identity, into a life that resembled normality more than the life they had before. Layla saw the damage the service for the country had done to good people all the time.

“I know you are,” Ur said as she grabbed her jacket. She usually did not freeze but it was autumn now and she could not afford getting ill because unless she was there to keep them in line, her team would do anything but work.

“Who are you going to see?” the blonde asked, undoubtedly going through long lists of names inside her head, trying to figure out who the person was, the person Ur deemed capable of relating to her point.

“No one who ever made it back into a civilian life,” Ur said grimly as she closed the copper buttons of her jacket, a sigh leaving her lips. “It’s Agent Tempest, she was with NAHA’s science fraction.”

And had ended up at least as messed up as Ur herself and this was saying a lot because one should have guessed that laboratory personal was safe from the madness that came along with national security matters.

“Tempest…” Layla said as she bit her lip, probably remembering the wrong Agent Tempest because there had been quite a few of them as the entire family had been involved in the spy business in some shape or form.

“The one who never get arrested for anything,” the black-haired agent said with a smirk as she slipped out of the room, heading downstairs before she crashed straight into a wall of muscle which could be – after the death of Chres – not too many people. She briefly prayed for Metalicana Redfox because between the two of them, they would be able to laugh it off but because her luck was horrible these days, it was Silver who was twirling car keys around his finger, obviously on his way out.

“Careful where you’re walking; someone might step onto you,” the man said and she rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, c’mon, you know that you love my jokes.”

This was not just true, it was also part of her problem.

“Looks like you’re heading out, huh?” she asked as she raised her eyebrows before she opened her purse and pulled out an item that appeared to be a normal pen. “I got this from grandpa; he said I should test it in the field. However, I’m miles behind on reports and won’t head out for a while … do me a favour and test it for me?”

“What even is this? Aside from some prototype from North?” he asked and she was happy that he did ask questions she felt like answering and not the ones that would force her to lie.

“Laser cutter,” she said with a grin. “Actually, if you consider it to be useful, you can keep it. I can get a million new ones.”

“…thanks then, I guess,” he said and she was sure that he was thinking about the many times a handheld laser cutter would come in very handy during their usual work.

“Now excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.”

Actually, she had many meetings to get to on this Monday but she doubted that this would be of any importance to Silver or anyone else.

* * *

**i think i'm finally scared now**

* * *

Gildarts swore that if his partner would not go and put away this stupid laser cutter thing, he would get up and take it from him, never mind that it had been Ur who had been stupid enough to give the biggest kid they had on their team the stupid thing. One should have assumed that after being a parental figure, Ur would have learned not to give someone who as easily distracted shiny things.

The moment she would arrive for work, he would have a serious chat with her about how to act responsibly. It was probably something her relationship with Lyon could benefit from. Not that she needed help with this new responsibility. She had proven to be very skilled at rising to whatever challenge presented itself to her and she was taking this in stride as well.

This was exactly what he was thinking when Grandine Marvell made her appearance in their doorframe. The white-haired agent had become a common sight in their office because they had had to work together to handle the aftermath of Vastia’s death. It had been awkward as hell at first because everyone had known that she would not be working with them during their cases if her partner was still alive and sometimes, Gildarts wondered if he was the only one who noticed the many occasions when she stopped herself from saying something she would have told Vastia because they had been very close.

( _“You and Chres, huh?”_ Ur had said once. _“You’re pretty tight … it’s like you got a **link**.”_ )

(He wondered what it was like to lose a partner who had been so familiar that it seemed like reading his mind would be possible at any time.)

Grandine Marvell was a police officer before anything else. She did not play nice with the agents of NAHA or other national agency who sometimes worked with ECID but she was very careful to never appear as too rude. She was skilled at colouring within the lines while never making a secret out of her utter disaster for certain things. Usually, the woman was a bit awkward about directly addressing a concern, especially when it was necessary to ask for help in any shape or form. In Gildarts’ humble opinion, this was because she was far too proud for her own good. Today, however, she was a hurricane as she entered the office, Lyon hot on her heels which was very odd and did probably not mean anything positive.

“Why on earth,” she started and Gildarts swore that if thunder had a voice, this would be it, “did Lund forget to pick up Lyon from school?”

This was indeed odd because along with Dreyar, there was no one quite as focused on always being on time as Ur and for her to forget to pick up Lyon was really weird. A very bad feeling grew inside of the martial art expert and he bit his lip before he looked at the white-haired tracker and found his own worry mirrored in her face. And for Marvell to be visibly worried was perhaps not as rare as for Ur not to be on time but it was something noteworthy.

“I’ll call her and see what she got to say to her defence,” Fullbuster offered as he reached over to dial the woman’s mobile number.

Slowly, the realisation settled inside of the red-haired agent that it might turn out to be a very long night if his partner would not get a hold on the woman. Gildarts had lost far too many comrades on the road and he had no idea how he would handle Ur becoming one of them. This was why he would not rest until her position and her well-being were confirmed again.

This whole issue was vastly different from Ur being on some assignment. He had known that there was a reason why she was not reporting in back then. Right now, she was missing without any excuse for this and he really wanted to know what on earth had kept her from calling the office and letting them know what was going on. For a brief moment, he hoped that she had been just spontaneously contacted by NAHA because they had needed her expertise.

Fullbuster turned around, his face blank and maybe a little paler than usually. “She isn’t picking up her phone,” he said as he started the tracking program on his computer in silence while everyone else was staring at him.

The cold grip around Gildarts’ heart tightened as he looked at Marvell who was looking like she had just seen a ghost. He knew what he was thinking; it was legendary at headquarters that Ur always answered her phone. When she was driving, it was connected to the speakerphone. When she was asleep, it was within her reach and she woke up two seconds into her ringtone. The only occasion he could remember  she had not picked up instantly had been when she had been feeling down after a breakup.

“Babasama,” Marvell said, clearing her throat as choking noises escape her. She knew the protocol regarding missing agents far better than anyone else because she had investigated quite a few events where law enforcement officers had been taken in the past. However, she had never liked it at all because it was a very hard job to chase after colleagues. “It’s technically far too early but … this is Lund. She isn’t the kind of person to run off…”

It was nearly awkward for Gildarts to realise how much Grandine Marvell and Ursea Lund were alike and he made the mental note to never mention this realisation to either of the women. Only complete morons would go and directly compare two women to each other and Gildarts was many things but no fool. He had lived too long to be one, he supposed. They looked nothing alike and most people would have called him blind for even thinking that they resembled each other but Gildarts saw past the first layer, saw past their looks. It was in the way Marvell paced around, biting her lip and cracking her fingers before she bent down, ruffling Lyon’s hair, making empty promises that she would fix it although she would hardly be able to. Ur would have done just the same and the realisation sent a shiver down the man’s spine. With the white-haired agent around, it was like Ur’s presence in their office was _suffocating_. And this was the last thing they needed now.

“It’s too early to report her as missing,” Gildarts said quietly, cursing this stupid regulation into the depths of hell. “But I suppose that we can call all the hospitals to get this option out of the equation.”

Marvell – pretty porcelain doll Grandine Marvell – _growled_ and the sound was indeed threatening. It was difficult to imagine that someone who looked so fragile was actually a very dangerous woman but Gildarts had worked with Ur for far too long to ignore the very real possiblity. “Too early, too early,” she muttered as she nearly tore out her own hair. “I know that there have to be at least forty-eight hours without any news from the missing or proof for a crime but … this is suspicious. And I have a damn bad feeling about this.”

A bad feeling Gildarts shared. He did not even remember the last time he had been genuinely terrified of something but right now, he was nearly scared out of his wits. He had never been this helpless before and he remembered that the helplessness had always been what he had hated to much about cases involving kidnapping or hostages. It was part of his very being to help people and to be kept from doing so unsettled him considerably.

“To hell with the rules,” Fullbuster said as he looked up from his screen. “Her phone’s turned off … can’t remember her ever doing that.”

Which was likely because Ur did not turn of her phone willingly, ever. She needed to be able to be reached at all times because she liked to be needed and so she was frustrated whenever she had to do it because she felt like she was temporarily cut off from the rest of the world.

“We can’t go against the rules, not without one hell of a reasoning,” Gildarts replied, his fingernails digging into his scalp as he stared at the surface of the desk, waiting for some kind of plan to appear just there. “I suppose the best way would be to go to Babasama regarding the suspicion and then, we stop by at her house. Lastly, we call the hospitals.”

The plan was not good and he was sure that if he was not quite as emotionally compromised as he was, he would have come up with something better but he was terrified. Ur had her fair share of enemies and the tragic fate of Silver’s ex-wife was a little too present in his mind for him to forget how those things sometimes ended. And the thought of Ur, pale and dead, on the ground in a pool of her own blood was something that was likely to drive him insane with worry for his former partner.

He also felt sorry for Lyon, for the boy who had just lost his father and who might end up losing his new guardian as well. Life was seldom fair but it angered Gildarts that something seemed to have to out for the boy who seemed like he was trying very hard not to let his fear show. And he had to be terrified as well. He might lack Gildarts’ experience with people who had nothing good in mind but like most children, he was surely capable of reading the atmosphere and right now, there was a lot of worry in the room.

“We will get her back,” he added as an afterthought while he looked at Lyon. “I swear – we will get her home and it will be good again.”

The little boy looked up to him with those dangerously intelligent eyes he had gotten from his mother. “Promise?” he asked and it sounded like he was struggling not to cry.

“Of course,” he replied although he was not quite as certain as he tried to sound. Not just Ur had no shortage of enemies, her entire family had likely more adversaries than supporters and this might worsen the situation.

“I suppose this is your make-it-or-break-it-moment, Agent Clive,” Marvell said as she smiled faintly at him. “Make sure that you don’t break it, yes?”

“I had that moment a long time ago,” he said as he thought back to the dark cave somewhere in the mountains, trying not to remember too vividly what it had been like to feel his colleague’s heartbeat fade away while he desperately tried to stop the blood from oozing out of the wound. It was a not-so-horrible memory, however, because they had made it out alive, both of them. It had been a minor miracle and Gildarts had had dreams where they did not made it back for weeks but eventually, he had moved on from it and he had felt like he had grown from the experience.

“Believe me, you’ll have another moment somewhere along the road,” she said as she flipped back her hair and waved at Lyon before she left the office.

Technically, they were on nightshift but they were all allowed to accept jobs of their own at any time so no one had the nerve to stop them as they left the headquarters and drove to Ur’s place which they found deserted which fuelled Gildarts’ bottomless fear that something had happened to his ex-partner. Waiting for Lyon to get food from the freezer, Fullbuster made the calls to the hospitals while Gildarts paced through Ur’s pretty living room that was in an immaculate state as always.

He did not like this at all. He did not like to intrude on Ur’s privacy, he did not like not knowing whether she was safe or not. And he most certainly did not like the idea that someone had captured her but with each hospital she had not been admitted to, the probability grew.

“Nothing,” Fullbuster finally said as he pocketed his phone and sunk into the couch, massaging his scar which seemed to be a hint that he was thinking very hard about a matter. “No one has seen her anywhere. If only I’d asked where she went earlier.”

“She wouldn’t have answered you, anyway,” Gildarts said in an attempt to calm his partner down. They needed to think and people who were panicking rarely came up with good ideas.

“Let’s just pretend she got kidnapped,” Fullbuster said, frowning deeply at the idea. “Who would have the skill to overpower her?”

“Well, a quick surprise attack would do the trick,” Gildarts shrugged before he sighed. “Then there’s the option of taking her down with a tranquiliser.”

He did not like to think about the technicalities of kidnapping Ur because it made it all more real. At the same time, he realised that it was probably better when it became more real to him because he needed to be shocked out of the numbness he was feeling right now. He needed to get a call to action and he had no idea how this was supposed to happen.

Lyon, however, seemed to have the answer because he appeared in the doorframe, holding some kind of crown made of ice. “Um…” he said awkwardly. “I f-found this in the freezer.”

For a moment, Silver Fullbuster was unusually silent for his standards but then, he cleared his throat and sighed deeply. “I guess we found evidence towards a crime,” he said grimly. “Not sure how we’re supposed to fit this into a bigger pattern but…”

“It’s enough to report her as missing, yes,” Gildarts said as he got up before he took the crown from Lyon. “And I guess that there’s no traces of a break-in because whoever brought this here used Ur’s own key.”

“And we polluted the whole area,” the black-haired man added as he sighed deeply. “However, we can’t do much today. We should … we should come up with theories overnight and … tomorrow, we’ll start looking for her. Today, we won’t be productive.”

As much as it hurt him to admit this, the other man was right. They had no idea who had taken Ur or what they wanted. They did not even know if the woman they had taken had been Ur the agent or Ur the daughter of North Cooperation. They would have to figure this out first, the rest would come later.

* * *

**a supernova grew up to be stardust**

* * *

 

The forty-eight hours were nearly up when Silver arrived in the cellar of North Cooperation’s headquarters which was thankfully located in Era because he was in no mood to travel across the country. He had been to a similar place once, back when his instructor had believed that he was a good candidate to test new weapons. But frankly, the private workshop of Jacques Lund was above what the military could afford because the man was of old money and as far as Silver remembered, the part of the Lund family the man had quitted a few decades ago still held ownership over the most successful enterprise for weaponry.

The owner of the workshop was rolling elaborate blue prints into neat rolls and returned them to their places before he mentioned for Silver to sit down. “You work with pumpkin, huh?” the old man asked as he ran a hand through his messy hair that was gleaming in the light of the workshop. “And she disappeared? That’s not like her.”

This was not what Silver had wanted to hear although it did not come as a surprise – at all. Ur had never seemed to be the kind of person to run away from responsibility and aside from her work, she was also carrying a certain duty towards the son of the man who had seemingly had enough faith in her to leave Lyon in her care – Silver had never quite understood the logic behind that move.

“That’s what we think too but we wanted to check in with people she might associate with before we jump to any conclusions,” he replied as he impatiently tapped his fingers against the table. “When did you last hear from her?”

“She called me – three days ago and chewed me out about my last public statement,” the old man replied as he looked at Silver, his dark eyes piercing the younger man. “You think something bad has happened to her, don’t you? Because this will be—“

And once again, it was the lack of words that explained the magnitude of the situation because there was no doubt in Silver that Jacques Lund had seen a lot in his life. He had done some research about the man before he had come to the headquarters of the cooperation and he remembered reading that he had once fallen into the hands of criminals when he had been a young man, along with a young woman who was a doctor. Together, they had escaped – to the date, no one but them knew how – and had gotten married a few years later.

“Did she say something about feeling threatened by something or someone?” Silver pushed on because whether he wanted it or not, he had to try and treat this talk as professional as possible because he needed the all the information he could get and he needed it fast.

“Ur does not take much influence on what happens in the business,” the old man said as he traced circles onto the table, “to be exact, she has yet to make a move at all in this matter.”

“…could you fill that statement with a little more information?” Silver asked as he tapped his pen against the table, a frown deep on his face. “I’m not that good with messy family politics so I need you to clarify this.”

“This family … was supposed to stand together,” the old man said as he pressed his lips together. “After I was disowned by my father for marrying a woman who had more brain than money, I wanted to never see the family split again. Then, my daughter-in-law died and my son blamed Ursea.”

“That was more than twenty-nine years ago.”

“It was, yes,” the patriarch confirmed. “I’m nearly sure that your agency has the same idea as her last – that she is brilliant.” There was a moment in which the man straightened his tie – one with the _most_ ridiculous rocket ship pattern. “My wife and I would have been thrilled to give her a laboratory of her own, to send her to the same schools where we learned the way of this business.”

“…but she wasn’t cut out for this, was she?” Silver asked as he wondered why the man felt like it was necessary to start with the beginnings of the world rather than to just say what he thought about the situation.

“Ursea takes a lot after her mother,” the old man said as he pressed his fingertips together, “and this is both a blessing and a curse. For once, it is the reason why Octavian is unable to love her, he is stuck in a past where he has not lost his love yet. And then, it is a blessing – because in a world where Octavian had loved Ur, he would have smothered her.”

“She does not talk about her mother or her family at all,” Silver said as he impatiently tapped his food against the floor.

“Ah yes, we are the burden on her shoulders,” the old man said and there was an odd lack of remorse in his voice. “Deep down, Ursea has two traits that should _always_ be considered – she hates to lose and she shares her mother’s world view … there is beauty in _everything_.”

It seemed to be odd and understandable at the same time. He had known about the aversion against losing but then, he had yet to meet someone who was truly okay with losing. But even the seemingly new aspect did not come as a surprise, there was a reason why she made sure that everything was always in order.

“In any case,” the man continued, “although we certainly have our fair share of enemies, I doubt that whoever took pumpkin wants money or something we can hand over.”

“…how much money did you pay the last time someone from your family was taken?” Silver asked because although he had looked for this in the files, he had lacked the clearance to actually be informed about this part of the mess. Clive had lacked the clearance, too. The only one who would have had the right level and a reason to look into it would be the one who probably knew it anyway.

“We paid a lot of money for him,” the old man said with a soft expression in his eyes, “but it was most certainly worth it – we can always earn money but we cannot grow precious people on trees so … a few millions were paid for his release and we never regretted it.”

“Always happy to hear that you didn’t regret it,” a new voice said and Silver turned his head. The man in the doorframe was blond and green-eyed but although those colours were vastly from those of the missing woman, they resembled each other to the point that it was obvious that they were related by blood. He stepped into the room, smoothing a wrinkle out of his jacket and stretched as he crossed the room.

“Grandpa, you called?” he asked smoothly as he threw a questioning glance at Silver. “One of Ur’s suitors who want to ask you for her hand in marriage or something like that?”

“Jacob,” the old man said in a serious manner as he mentioned for the newcomer to sit down, “this is Agent Fullbuster of ECID. He is investigating … Ursea’s disappearance.”

There was a brief moment of complete silence which was only broken by the sudden ‘what?!’ that left the blond man’s lips.

“She has not shown up for work on Monday, two days ago,” Silver said as he pressed his lips together. “And although we don’t have enough evidence to suspect a crime, we investigate it.”

“Ur is one of the most reliable people I know,” the man called Jacob said as he slid off the chair to pace around. “I was … confused when she stood me up on Monday but I thought that work got into the way.”

There was a lie or some sort of half-truth in these words and this had Silver’s entire attention mere moments later. There was something inside of the other man that was not easy to explain. This man knew more than he was willed to say and yet, there was no other option for either of them right now.

“Why were you and Ur supposed to meet?” the old man asked as he frowned.

“…confidential information – I promised not to tell you or granny under any circumstances,” the blond man said as he averted his gaze. “Agent, if you would follow me, perhaps…?”

Silver rose to his feet, his arms crossed over his chest as he bid goodbye to the old man who went back to his sketches and although he tried not to let it show, there was a tension in his shoulders. The walk down the hallways was shorter than the agent had expected because for a civilian, Jacob Lund was moving fast and he seemed to lack any hesitation. After a minute or two, they got to another part of the extensive cellar where the blond man dragged a key card through the reader and the door opened. Behind the door, yet another laboratory but this one differed, looked more medical than the previous once.

“So, Agent Fullbuster,” the man said as he sat down on the counter, legs dangling in midair, casually imitating the missing woman’s usual behaviourisms on a level that appeared to be so casual that it was impossibly on purpose. It was something that happened to people who had spent a lot of time together.

“Mr Lund,” Silver started as he looked around, “what is so secret about your appointment with my colleague on Monday that you couldn’t let your grandfather know?”

“He has trying to work out for years where Ur gets her tattoos from,” the blond man replied as he shrugged, “and since I am not exactly keen on getting killed by either of my grandparents, I’d prefer this knowledge to stay secret.”

“…you were the one who made the arrow tattoo,” Silver said as he remembered the fine lines of black on white skin. After the revelation that Ur Lund was related to the Lunds, it had been obvious that she had had been able to afford a tattoo artist who knew what he was doing – as opposed to those who had tattooed quite a few of his ex-comrades – but he would never have guessed that her cousin was the one to create the tattoos.

“Not just the arrow,” the other man said with a shrug as he lifted his hand. “Most of them are gone by now but I also designed the eclipse tattoo … and the feather. My, the feather was really difficult to design – she has impossible standards for about everything and that includes her … scars.”

“…there is a meaning to her tattoos, correct?”

“Unless she suddenly became the sort of person to make permanent decisions without good reason, then I’d suspect that they have some deep meaning aside from the part she told me about,” the man said as he crossed his arms, shuffling papers across the table. There was a tension in the man’s posture and he regretted that he had never taken Dreyar up on the offer of teaching him how to read body language like an open book. Jacob Lund – too bad that Silver had been too lazy to read his file, he had not been supposed to be in town at all – was no suspect because as Clive had stated the night after Ur Lund had gone missing, she was no threat to anyone within her family, not with the way she had basically disowned herself, something her grandfather had confirmed for them.

“What was the supposed purpose of the tattoos? And what do you mean by some are gone?” Silver asked as he wondered if there was anyone in this family who could give a straight answer to anything.

“The first one was a rebellion,” Lund said as he rolled his eyes, “and she roped me into it … I got a degree in biochemistry and I told her about the tattoo ink I was designing at the time,  it can be removed easier than the usual kind.”

“So you let her get all those tattoos because you can wipe them away with relative ease?” Silver asked, a frown on his face. He was actually nearly sure that this was the way things were going down in this peculiar relationship and yet, it seemed odd to make such a deal.

“No one ever _lets_ Ur do something,” the blond man corrected, “because if she really wants it, she has her ways to get it. But yes, aside from that, you are completely right.”

For a moment, Silver was considering to ask more questions before he realised that although he had learned a lot about his colleague, he had not learned anything that would help them with their case and this frustrated him.

“The arrow,” he said as he crossed his arms, “do you know what that one is supposed to mean?”

“The arrow symbolises a decision she cannot take back,” the blond man said with a shrug, “but the really interesting part is not the arrow but the writing above it – _aim for victory.”_

“And lemme guess, no matter what you do not know, you are perfectly aware of the meaning of that,” Silver said although he was not sure why he was so confident about it. In the past, there had never been much implication of Ur being extraordinarily close to anyone in her family. The relationship with her father was strained to say the least and when he had tried to get an appointment with her grandmother, he had been told that the socialite did not wish to speak with anyone about the current situation. And yet, it seemed that there was a lot more to this family than he could see.

“You are smart – I can see why Ur keeps you around,” the blond man said as he cracked the little finger of his right hand, another – if mirrored – habit he shared with the missing. “The last kidnapping within this family, nine years ago, that was me. Our grandparents worked with NAHA then, they wanted to ensure that I came home again. However, even after the money was paid, they kept me – it seemed the willingness of my grandparents was supposed to be _exploited_.”

“Wait, wait – NAHA got their fingers in many cookie jars but they never get involved with kidnappings—”

“They do take _considerably_ more interest in this sort of thing when the kidnapped is an agent of their agency,” the man replied as he rolled his eyes. “But let me guess, Ur never mentioned that her older cousin was a med agent for NAHA before he quit to dedicate his life to science and the enterprise.”

“Pretty much, yeah,” Silver said as he had to admit that the other man had just become considerably more interesting than before.

“So to get me back, Director Edel sent out two agents, a man who can literally punch through a wall and a woman who can switch off her moral compass if it’s needed,” the scientist-slash-former-agent-slash-heir said with a shrug. “Technically, it was stupid. ‘sea was emotionally compromised and Clive is, well, Clive. Anyway, they came for me. Long story short, Atlas caused a diversion and Ur climbed onto the roof to take down the one guarding me … only that she missed.”

This time, Silver frowned and did not even bother to hide it. Although it was generally accepted on the team that he was the specialist for guns, it had always been mentioned – usually in passing and rather offhanded – that Ur was (or had been, depending on who was asked) likely the second best after him. She had once mentioned that back in NAHA, she had handled the bloody part of the job and this had implied some real skill. And missing a target usually indicated a lack of skill. “She missed,” he repeated, his brows knitted together as he frowned.

“It happens, once in a while, especially when she has to watch people getting shot on her watch,” the blond man said as his fingers traced a circle over his shoulder, a gesture he seemed to hardly notice to be making. “Yep, the moment Clive started his diversion, they decided to get rid of me.”

“You look pretty lively for that.”

“Her second shot was perfectly timed,” Jacob Lund said as he stacked a bunch of stray papers in an orderly fashion. “You know – back in NAHA, the director had a knack for assigning the names of ancient deities as aliases. And if Artemis had not been taken at the time when Ur was an agent there, that would have been hers.”

* * *

**for i know I have come too close**

* * *

 

On the paper, the idea had appeared to be – well, perhaps not great but good enough. Reality appeared to be vastly different as the house they stood for looked like a weird crossover between a certain king’s castle and a modern cooperation’s headquarters from which Gildarts deduced that Ur had not been the architect as she would never have stood for a building as horrible – she came with her standards and people could either handle it or they should get away from her as soon as possible because she could and she would throw a major fit otherwise when she saw her creativity messed with for no good reason.

The lady of the house was sitting on the stairs, black hair falling over her shoulders while white fingers toyed with the necklace she was wearing, the necklace that was the reason why Gildarts had decided to see her in the first place.

“Long time no see, Clive,” she said as she rose, her hands falling loosely to her sides.

He rolled his eyes at her before he mentioned towards her sunglasses. “Your jokes were always one of a kind,” he said as remorse crept into his voice. He had never quite forgiven himself for what had happened because it had been just so damn unfair. She had been just a scientist, she had not even been the intended target of the incident that had taken nearly her entire sight away from her.

“My sight,” she said as she pushed up her glasses, revealing two clear orbs of emerald, “was entirely restored by my friendly neighbourhood surgeon.”

“Even better,” he said as he followed her into the house. She had been one of the best scientists NAHA had ever hired and even after she had quit when she had lost a little too much for her to stay, she had done some freelance work for her old employer which meant that she still knew what was going on in the agency.

“This is no social call, is it?” she asked as she poured coffee into two cups. “No one ever visits me just because these days. When Nike came by—”

Gildarts nearly broke the dainty little cup she had handed him because this was not just new, no, this was also a surprise because Ur had had rules about not contacting any old contacts – and usually, she was very strict with herself and her rules. “You saw her?” he asked and hated his voice for shaking.

“I did,” the dark-haired woman said as she stirred sugar into her coffee. “On Monday, right after the surgery. We talked a bit about the good old days, you know? When I was nearly blind after the accident, when she was driving herself—”

“—half insane because she blamed herself,” Gildarts said as he drummed a nervous rhythm onto the couch. “She was furious with herself. As was I, just for the record.”

“Anyway, we had coffee together,” the scientist continued as she took a sip of her drink. “She has a few questions for me.”

This was no surprise. Ur had little reason whatsoever to contact old colleagues from NAHA and when she went against her own rule, it was because she had no other choice. And it seemed that she had gotten to the point where she had had to talk to the woman who had gone by Athena because of her intelligence and her will to dedicate her brilliance to a noble cause, a greater good.

But if there was someone who asked little questions and answered many questions – which was exactly what Ur demanded when she left her comfort zone – it would be the woman who had been a valuable asset to the team back at NAHA for countless years.

“Did she mention something about feeling, I don’t know, _threatened_?” he asked as he looked around. It was one of the fancy places where he felt never all that comfortable but there were things he could afford right now and being choosy was not one of them. He needed information and as his only other option to attain it was Bane Milkovich, it was easier to play on old bonds although he felt slightly guilty.

“You know her well, even better than I do,” she replied as she looked him, her dark eyes filled with the wisdom of someone who had been on the bottom of everything before crawling back up, back into the light. “Even if she had felt threatened, she would never have said so.”

This was the truth and Gildarts knew this but he could not help but sigh as he emptied his cup of tea, hoping that Fullbuster had gotten information that was more valuable. “What did she ask about, then?” he asked after a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“You know that girls don’t tell anyone about their conversations, usually,” she replied as her lips curled upwards, “but Ur was not quite sure how she was supposed to handle something so … I attempted to give her some advice. It was about relationships, that’s all I want to say. And then, we briefly chatted about the Deliora case … which led us to Vastia’s death.”

“She sought you out to discuss the not-so-hidden crush she got on my new partner?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow. After all the years, he would have thought that he had seen each and every weird decision Ur had ever made but for her to talk to an old colleague about matters of the heart seemed to be a little extreme, even for her standards.

“We talked about Joan,” the woman said as she lifted her gaze, once empty eyes shining with a mixture of regret and old understanding. She had been there, that day, but even she had not been able to save the other woman and Gildarts had known that she had never forgiven herself for this because it had been her job to save the agents that had protected her.

“Joan, huh?” Gildarts repeated, the name falling off his lips like a prayer. He had not thought about her in a while, had not brought her up because she was a memory designed to hurt. “I haven’t thought about her in a while.”

“Ur brought her up when we discussed the untimely death of Chres Vastia,” she said, her voice too smooth to reveal what she was thinking although Gildarts knew it anyway as this part of her head had never been a mystery to anyone. Back in the days, she had been one of the few to understand that while he would be willed to torch down the world for Ur, she would never possess his heart.

(Which was for the better, probably, because loving Ur would have damaged him.)

Joan had been different. She had been smart and witty, the kind of woman to go through hell with because as long as she was there, how bad could it really get? They had worked together on cases when Ur had been away on her sort of assignment and it had been fun because Joan had been a brilliant liar, someone who had been able to pull off each and every con. He remembered very well the days when she had made a target think that she was some sort of mafia princess and it had been awe-inspiring to watch her because while she had been playing on the same level as other agents, she had had a very distinct style – the kind of woman who drank her whiskey straight from the bottle and who laughed a lot and worried little.

(She had not been Camille but she had left Gildarts dizzy in her wake.)

Back in the days, Ur had been amused by the love affair because she had never been able to get over the idea of Gildarts going for the kind of woman who could render him speechless with a few well-chosen words but as months had passed – those awfully long months when the ice queen had been on a long-term recon job – it had become awfully obvious to everyone who had been watching that no matter how messy it would get – neither Joan nor Gildarts had been the type to go down silently so it had always been a fierce battle for control – it would either end tragically or it would last.

(A bullet had answered the question for everyone aside from Gildarts.)

With Ur, he had overthrown drug bosses and he had dined in the finest restaurants because although she had denied herself her wealth, she had sometimes missed the gold and the glitter of the glamorous world she had left behind in favour of a world made of gunpowder and steel. Back in the days when she had had poison on her fingertips, they had rewritten history in the name of their superiors. It had been an easier time but Ur had burned too bright and so her time had ended before it had begun.

And then, it had been Joan who had been the one to leave a trail of poison in the drinks of men who thought themselves to be kings or even gods. She had been good at slipping in and out of places better guarded than a fortress, causing a distraction while he had handled the rest of the assignment.

With Joan as his temporary partner, he had remembered the reason why he had joined with an agency as two-faced as NAHA in the first place, why he had decided to swallow the bitter pill – it had been so that no one else would have to do the same thing.

It had been awfully easy for him, at that time. Joan had been an agent of his brand, no master of a chess game where the pawns were actual people, no one who had plans with a billion of backup plans. She had been blunt, she had played her cards without much strategising – and this had cost her life in the very end.

He had hardly been able to believe it when the news of her death had reached her and he had become a reclusive man for a few months before Athena had appeared on his doorstep, dropping off a box of things that had once belonged to Joan, merely stating that this was what the deceased woman would have wanted – and that if Gildarts would not get his act together, she would send another member of the Scientific and Medical Department after him and that he would not like this at all.

“Joan was a good agent,” Gildarts said as his teeth gritted against his will. Joan had been assigned the alias of Atalanta for many reasons, one of them being the way that there had been hardly an agent at NAHA who had been able to take her on in a fair fight. But in spite of her popularity and the fame she had had, she had never been arrogant. Quite the opposite, she had always taken the time to connect with the other agents, correcting the stances of the trainees and sparring with the seasoned agents whenever she had had the chance. During her funeral, she had been likened to a diamond in the rough by more than one superior but in Gildarts’ opinion, there had been nothing rough about her because she had been a shining, glittering gem – that had merely been cut in a manner the others had never seen before.

“Let’s be honest,” the scientist on the other side of the table said as she lowered her gaze, her face softening a little, “it would have ended in a tragedy if the bullet had not ended it.”

And he knew that she was right, that he had been on the best way to let something tear him apart just because it had appeared to be not completely stupid at the time although it had been this and far more. “I know,” he whispered back at her, trying to sound like he knew what had actually occurred on that fateful day although no one had had the heart to tell him the details.

“Gildarts,” the woman said as she leaned forwards, her hand toying with the arrow necklace around her neck, the necklace that had led him to her door in the first place because although he had been there when Ur had gotten the arrow tattoo on her back, he had never asked her about its meaning and maybe, to know the meaning would reveal someone who might have had a motive to do something to her.

“Em,” he said and the name tasted like blood because it had been years since he had called her that, since he had felt like he could risk using her nickname or her first name altogether because it was connected to far too many bad memories. The last time he had had this courage, they had been sitting in a waiting room while they had waited for news on her partner’s (and brother’s) state after an experiment had gone terribly wrong. But she _was_ Emerald Tempest – her family had always had a weird fascination with names connected to gemstones, her mother was called Ruby and Emerald had always gone by Emma because she had not liked the family tradition – and this meant that she needed to be reminded of what they once used to be and calling her by her old nickname was one way to ensure that she did remember.

“I do not know who would have a reason to kidnap ‘sea,” the woman said as she scratched her neck, “but if I was a betting woman, my money would be on an old acquaintance.”

He nearly grinned at her. “As we both know, Em, you _are_ a betting woman,” he said as he took a sip of the tea she had given him. It was a fact, one that had always amused him. Emma had always gambled, had always played with high stakes and she had always won. She had been someone who everyone had liked as backup on assignments dealing with weaponry because she had been able to dismantle most of it.

“Yes, indeed,” she said as she dropped her hands to her sides, her facial expression turning even softer. “I doubt she was taken for money. If she was, her family would have long paid for it. I mean – they got the money. The reason is not just personal, it is also supposed to be _symbolic_.”

“Like the arrow is a symbol that only you and ‘sea understand completely,” he replied, slipping back into the nickname Ur had claimed to loathe for the better part of the years they had known each other for because it had reminded her of people she had wanted to forget with all her might.

He remembered what he and Fullbuster had agreed to chat with people who knew Ur well and who might be able to aid the investigation simply by being able to determine what Ur would do and what she would not do. He had not wanted to go see Emma because the woman noticed too much but someone had had to talk to her and she would have gotten into Fullbuster’s head within the first three minutes and she would have messed him up because that was not only what she did best, it was also second nature for her.

Now, he was worried whether the mere mention of Joan had allowed her to get into his head and spin his thoughts in a manner that appeased her already.

“It was never about the arrow,” the woman said as she huffed and removed the necklace – which she had never not worn in all the years they had known each other – from her neck before she threw it at Gildarts who caught it. Upon a closer look, he spotted the well-hidden inscription in the silver – _amor et melle et felle fecundissimus_. He was not good with Ancient Fiorean but he did recognise a family’s motto when he saw it.

“The arrow itself isn’t the message,” he said as he handed the necklace back to her. “It just transports it, correct?”

“Yes,” she confirmed as she fastened the thin string of silver around her neck once more. “And Ur’s arrow carries a second message as well … aside from that the arrow does have a symbolic value for her.”

“You know the second message?” he asked, his fingers tapping a nervous rhythm onto the table, fully aware that she would not be happy.

“Of course,” she said, annoyance slipping into her voice because she felt offended by his question as she had always kept both her eyes open for as long as they had known each other. “You wouldn’t happen to remember Apollo, would you?”

“Never met him, didn’t even know who was the lucky one to carry that title,” Gildarts said with a shrug. “You know, our assignments were never the same … and you may remember the way it was – as long as you didn’t have to, you knew next to nothing about the agents outside your team,” he added as he raised an eyebrow. “He was a doctor, though, wasn’t he?”

“One with a lot of field experience but technically, he was really just a medic,” she replied, her voice now holding the slight vibe of the sense of superiority agents of her branch had usually felt because they had been the ones who had kept their dangerous world going by coming up with more and more high tech equipment.

“What’s so important about him, anyway?” Gildarts asked.

“Maybe the part about how he was the doctor you and Ur rescued?” the black-haired woman said with a shrug before her eyes caught sight of the picture on the windowsill and the same ancient pain Gildarts had been far too used to back in the days crossed her face because she looked back at him. “Maybe the part his actual name was Jacob Lund as in **_the_** Jacob Lund?”

Gildarts halted his movements because this name was one he knew very well, not just because of the last name. Jacob Lund had been the doctor to sign the death certificate that had torn apart the world. Jacob Lund had been the doctor he and Ur had been send out to rescue on their last real job for NAHA, the job that had made it obvious that Ur could be emotionally compromised if necessary.

 _“Oh fuck,”_ he whispered as he remembered how he had sent his partner into the lion’s den which meant into the intimidating tower of glass and steel that was the heart of the North Cooperation – which was the enterprise Jacob Lund had decided to work for after retiring from the work as an agent. And while Emma had always been able to mess with heads, the same went for the man as well. It was only left to hope that Jacob Lund had more interest in helping his missing cousin than to mess with heads.


	13. xiii.

**just look over your shoulder**

* * *

 

It was time to admit it, Silver was slowly going out of his mind. It was the eighth time he was standing in this living room, searching for a lead that would give them a valuable hint on where on earth the profiler was kept against her will. He had to focus, he had to find a lead and they had to get her out of there before something horrible could happen to her.

 _C’mon, Lund_ , he caught himself thinking, _tell me your secrets … you do keep them._

The apartment was clean and lacked the personal belongings he had somewhat expected. There was a wall dedicated to photographs but most of them were of official nature – graduation pictures, for example, the occasional picture with Clive and Dreyar and finally, a picture of the complete team that would have made him laugh under different circumstances because the apartment’s owner looked fragile and doll-like in her formal uniform between two men far taller than her.

Dropping the bag he had borrowed from one of the teams that specialised in finding evidence onto the couch – pale blue, likely ridiculously expensive and straight out of the catalogue – he looked around in the living room, snorting. She needed a better interior designer, that much was for sure. The moment they tracked her down and got her out of whatever mess she had gotten herself into, he would inform her about this, seriously.

It had been five days since Ur had not returned from her stroll and he was not sure if he had slept enough. He had to go home – Gray needed to be taken care of, after all, and he doubted that the woman would approve of him neglecting his son – and he had to maintain a relatively normal routine but if this was not the case, he would live in the office, much like his partner. It had taken the man’s girlfriend to get him to sleep for a whole night. Well, not that Silver could actually blame Clive, it was a difficult situation because they still could do something. There was no proof for Ur’s death so she could still be saved.

Clive had accused him of projecting his anger over being unable to save Mika on their missing co-worker but the man was wrong. Silver was not that petty that he would try to make up for his failure in regards of saving one person by nearly working himself to death to save another. This was not about Mika, this was about the woman he really did not understand.

“Evening.”

He nearly shot the woman who had appeared behind him but then, he recognised her. There were not many people in the world who possessed the skill to sneak up on him but as far as those people went, Agent Marvell was certainly one of the more annoying ones. He was not sure what the woman’s deal was, whether she was concerned about Lund or about someone else but she had been _unusually_ cooperative ever since Vastia had died.

“Dammit, Agent,” he cursed as he pushed his gun back into the holster, “sneaking up on someone handling a gun might be unwise, really. Think about it, the next time.”

She was silent for a moment as she bound her hair into some sort of knot, then she looked around as she raised an eyebrow. “Lund really has a pretty apartment,” she said as she shook her head as if to get rid of an unbidden thought. “You might wonder why I am here.”

“I didn’t know that you and her are that close,” he said which was some kind of understatement as he was nearly certain that neither of the women was fond of the other one.

“I have called her an elitist bitch one more than one occasion,” Marvell said with a snort, entirely remorseless. “Not my greatest moment, I know. But there is a different in calling someone an snobby bitch and leaning back and doing nothing while she is in danger.”

There was it again, this weird loyalty between women at ECID, the way they were rivals among each other but the moment something happened, they stood united and were more than ready to kick ass and he had seen the fury of a group of scorned women and it was nothing he would call a refreshing experience.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence before Agent Marvell straightened up and pushed up the sleeves of her sweater – it had to be her day off as she was not wearing uniform – and threw her coat over the couch before she looked around, a thoughtful expression on her face as she ran her hands over the wooden surface of the table in a nearly absentminded way.

“What are you looking for?” he asked as he leaned against the bookshelf while she paced around in the room. Clive had clued him in on Marvell, had told him that the woman had – before the birth of her son – worked in the kidnapping taskforce so she probably knew what she was doing right now.

(He was not so sure if the rest of the team was still acting rational, they were all half mad with worry and he could understand it.)

“I agree with Clive’s latest theory,” she said as she pulled out books, running her hands over the boards, seemingly looking for some kind of switch. “Lund knew that someone was coming after her … and she probably either thought she would be able to fend off the person in question on her own … or she realised it on the way back from her meeting. In both cases, we should be able to follow the trace of thought that led to the realisation if we get the right intel.”

Sometimes, the woman talked like a soldier. Silver found this weirdly comforting for his nerves in times where he was two seconds from tearing apart the next person who had the audacity to ask him how he was feeling.

“Why would Ur have had a reason to feel like someone had it out for her if her nemesis is in prison?” Silver asked as he impatiently stacked up the books the woman had carelessly thrown onto the couch – not because he was an orderly person but because he needed to do something or he would trash the apartment and he was certain that Ur would not like that.

“Aside from the business typical dislike for everything that runs too smooth?” Marvell looked over her shoulder as she pulled her knife from her boot, using it to push aside a hidden obstacle. “Even without Deliora, she got enemies. You know how quick it can go, you arrest someone and the person sets out to ruin you.”

He flinched slightly, her implications were clear and she was right about it, it was ridiculously easy in their business to make enemies. “So if she knew, why didn’t she tell us?”

“Because she was not sure,” the woman replied with a triumphant smirk as she finally found what she had been looking for, a switch. “And you know how people in the department can get – hard facts or get out and come back if you got something decent.”

He nodded because she was right. And people had been stressed out lately, there had been the investigation over Vastia’s death and there had been so many cases – and someone as selfless as that cursed woman would have kept her worries to herself, waiting for a better moment. “You found something?” he asked as he approached the bookshelf.

“I think so,” she said as she pressed the button and the bookshelf swung back, nearly knocking her out. “I remembered reading reports about panic rooms … especially in the houses of single women, only a few weeks back. And Clive had given me the blueprints to Lund’s apartment … there was a space not accounted for when I compared it to the house’s prints.”

“But a panic room only makes sense if you—”

“Lund would not have build it herself and she would likely have gone down fighting rather than to hide, yes,” she said as she stared into the dark hole that had opened up, “but … an empty room? Take it from me; I’d kill for more storing space, more room to keep personal belongings I hold onto but that don’t belong into the eye of the public.”

“So she used the panic room as a … _storage_ room,” Silver said with a frown as he stepped into the darkness, searching for the light switch. “…why am I even still _surprised_ by her?”

“Good question,” the other agent said as he heard a soft click and the lights went on. “Actually, scratch the storage room. This is an archive … what on earth was she thinking when she did this?”

There was a brief second in which Silver was not sure what on earth his colleague had collected her, what she had preserved along the years but then, he understood. There were scale models on top of shelves, boxes full with folders that contained blueprints and sketches. Ur Lund had collected her short years as an architect in those boxes, in this room.

“Called it, Vastia, I called it,” Marvell muttered before she froze, sighing deeply. “Get a hold on yourself, girl, he’s dead,” she said, reminding herself of the bitter truth. “She did not say goodbye to this part of her life … well, why should she?” she mused aloud as she climbed over a box and frowned deeply as she held up a charger. “…did you check her private laptop?” she asked.

“We didn’t even find it,” he replied as he opened a box, holding up something that looked suspiciously like a catsuit. “Not what I expected her to possess, actually.”

“Her old uniform,” Marvell said with a nonchalant shrug. “Her time at NAHA was more combat oriented and so she wore suits like that. Anyway … we should go look for her laptop.”

“Too bad that I joined the military and not NAHA,” Silver said with a dramatic sigh as he threw the suit back into the box. “As for the laptop … I think we checked all rooms.”

“But let me guess, you weren’t exactly thorough in her bedroom,” the silver-haired woman said as she stuffed the charger into her pocket. “Out of concern for her privacy and _‘she is no criminal’_ , correct?”

For a moment, Silver was taken aback before he remembered that this was her field of expertise, that this was where she was nearly unbeatable. He could not take this as an offense, she would likely look not so great in comparison to him on the shooting range – or as Clive liked to call it: the shooting _cinema_.

“Dreyar suggested it,” he said after a moment as he shook his head, “but Clive wasn’t having any of it … and believe me, I wasn’t too keen on searching her bedroom either. I mean, sure, I would _love_ to take a closer look at—”

“I got it,” she said with a roll of her eyes before she crossed her arms and stepped back into the living room. “Seriously, Fullbuster, here goes a word of friendly advise … if you are serious about all the shit you say, it might be a good idea to let her know that you aren’t just kidding around … because believe me, she usually doesn’t waste much of a thought on things like this.”

“You mean…” He grinned as he followed her to the door behind which was the bedroom. “I should flat out tell her in hopes that she does not have me assassinated by Clive? Sorry, Marvell, but that’s a chance I won’t take.”

“Part of the reason why it’s so hard for her to date is that no one wants to deal with Clive,” the woman said as she pushed open the door, raising an eyebrow. “Not that I ever got that mindset … it’s not like he’s her keeper or something like that. She can handle herself just fine.”

“Which is probably why she is in some dark cellar right now,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “Anyway, if you’d be her, where’d you put your laptop?”

“Actually, I’m surprised that you didn’t find it,” she said as she grabbed the side of the nightstand and pulled out some kind of tray on which, sure enough, the laptop was. “Okay, I admit it, I got the same nightstand. Just, I didn’t pay the full price for it – that’s an expensive thing and I don’t have the money for designer furniture. I really need that promotion.”

“…what do you expect in her laptop?” he asked as he looked around, once again. Whoever had designed the rest of her apartment had likely also been the one to create this disaster. He knew and he acknowledged that she liked the epithet she had received a long time ago, that she liked being nicknamed the Ice Queen but did she have to demonstrate it this openly? If he would see another curtain in some pale shade of blue, he would rip it off the wall and into the next trashcan – or even better, the _fireplace_.

“The beginnings of what might become her best-selling autobiography, illegally downloaded music – I don’t know,” she said as she plugged in the charger and the laptop started to hum softly. “I just hope that she isn’t paranoid enough to have a password on this thing … Neekis is at headquarters and I’d rather not involve him in a private investigation.”

“I didn’t think you’d have a sense of humour,” he said as he leaned over her shoulder as the screen skipped any password sequence and they were granted direct access to everything.

“You can’t be partnered with Vastia without developing it somewhere along the way,” she said drily as she opened the email program. “Remind me to tell her that she makes my work so much easier by not having a password for this,” she said as her thin eyebrow rose on her forehead as she clicked a folder. “Also, by being such an orderly person.”

He leaned in closer as he read the subtitle of the folder **[ C.V. ;; Professional ]** before he looked at Marvell. “Mind to tell me what you are thinking right now?” he asked.

“Well, I wonder,” she said as she pressed her lips together and opened the first mail, “why on earth Vastia was writing a mail pretty much the moment when he was killed.”

His phone rung. He ignored it as he started at the short and cut off text. He knew about the modern phone’s functions – he did not live under some rock on the moon, after all – but this was certainly something odd. Because Marvell was right, this was the mail Vastia had been writing on when he had been shot. Silver could be sure about this, he had checked his watch the moment Clive had gotten up from the floor, shaking his head while Ur had trembled, close to tears but too proud to show them.

> **_Ur_ ** **_–_ **
> 
> **_The cellar. Tell me about the cell_ **

“Call me crazy,” Silver started but his tone implied that he would not appreciate being called crazy at all, “but somewhere in Era, there is a cellar. One that is important enough for Vastia to text Bambi about it although he knows that he is likely being followed and could be _killed_.”

“…he mentioned something about a cellar,” Marvell said as she buried her head in her hands, trying to focus. “About the cellar of the—” Her voice died and then, something that sounded nearly like laughter escaped her lips. “Oh good god,” she whispered.

“Mind to fill me in? Because I’m pretty confused right now,” he demanded as he crossed his arms, a frown on his face.

“It all comes back down to Opalescent,” she said as she got up, putting the laptop back onto the tray. “Vastia was injured when the Opalescent building exploded, it was one of the first acts of terror Deliora committed in Era.”

“And that building had a cellar. No surprise,” Silver said as he felt his hope fading. There had been a brief moment in which he had been crazy enough to think that the email was an actual lead, not just something that was very much obvious to everyone who had a brain.

“Do you know who won the student prize for the design of the building?” she asked as she paced around, her heels click-clacking against the wooden floor. “That was Lund. I remember that Vastia mentioned that once, in a pretty off-handed manner. It was not important, then.”

“But it is now?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow. “What has changed now?”

“Would you put it past Lund to hand over wrong blue prints?” she asked as she scratched her head, trying to jog her memories. “That she would give the Construction Office false plans?”

“Why is that important?”

“Because in the first process, Deliora admitted to having stolen the prints from all the buildings he targeted – to aim for the maximal damage,” she said as she smirked faintly. “And if I remember correctly, the Opalescent Building did not suffer that much damage … that it had to be blown up afterwards.”

“And if he later on found out who was responsible for the deceit, it makes considerably more sense for him to call Lund his nemesis,” Silver said as he straightened up and grabbed his keys. “You know what? We’ll go ask him.”

“He will hardly tell us where his friends – if this is really about Opalescent – keep her prisoner,” the woman warned as she followed him, grabbing her jacket in passing.

“You know, I’ve met the guy,” he said as he shrugged, “and he talks too much for his own sake. And he likes games, especially when he thinks that he is winning.”

“But he is not, not anymore,” she said as she threw her coat over her shoulders, a grim expression on her face. “How did you even get to the conclusion that his group is behind it?”

“It took some time but Clive remembered that Deliora was the first to call Ur an Ice Queen,” he said as he unlocked the car, “and we found – well, Lyon found – a frozen crown in the freezer. And if you combine this silly symbolism with the hatred Deliora feels for Bambi, it makes it pretty likely that his followers got her.”

“You are right,” she said as she nodded, a dark expression on her face, “Deliora likes to win. He especially likes to win when his opponent is tied by strict rules – like we are.”

“He knows our rules?” Silver smirked as he started the engine, “then I’d say that the time has come that we start breaking some of them. Alone to see the stupid expression on his face.”

* * *

 

**it will be alright**

* * *

Gildarts was moments from turning the computer into a pile of trash because no matter what he had tried, the words WRONG PASSWORD; ENTER AGAIN had stared back at him, taunting him. He was supposed to be this team’s expert when it came to technology and yet, he was at the end of his wisdom. He was supposed to be the person who knew Ur best and yet, he could not even guess her password right. He was pathetic, a failure as an agent, as a partner – as a  _friend_ . Burying his head in his hands, he groaned as he mused how much longer they would have to save Ur. If they were right and she had been kidnapped by Deliora’s followers, she was in mortal danger because her archenemy was not one to kid around and if she died, it would be his fault because he had not been able to take the one chance to find her in time.

“C’mon, Clive,” he muttered as he stared back at the screen. “You know her. You can do this.”

“Agent Clive?”

He looked over his shoulder and right at the bald IT genius the director had insisted on recruiting straight out of the university. “…you wouldn’t happen how to crack a password, would you?” he asked with a vibe of hope in his voice. “I got a feeling that somewhere in this computer, Ur is hiding an important hint for us. And I can’t get into it.”

“I don’t have the master password,” the young man said as he nervously rocked back and forth on his feet, “and this might take a while – and I really want to help but I promised my neighbour to pick up her daughter from kindergarten so I am not sure if I _actually_ can—”

“Neekis,” Gildarts said as he finally remembered the man’s name. “Wherever Agent Lund is right now, she is probably in a horrible state. You are an agent of ECID. You will hack into this computer – and I’ll go pick up the girl for you … wait, that came out pretty wrong.”

The man sighed deeply before he scratched his head and nodded, taking the chair Gildarts quickly vacated. “…Blendy, Sherry Blendy,” he said as he searched for something on his belt. “She is in Mrs Strauss’ class – Era Elementary School for Girls.”

Gildarts nodded as he reached for the keys to Ur’s car. “No problem, I can handle this,” he said as he locked his gun away. There were places where he could wear his firearm and there were schools.

“I certainly hope so,” the young man said as he pressed his lips together. “It got to be hard to have a team member missing.”

The martial art expert stopped close to the door, a sigh escaping his lips. “You were the tech guy of his last undercover job, yes?” he asked as he remembered that he had indeed seen the young agent at the funeral, standing with the petrified members of Vastia’s team. And Gildarts could understand the way they felt, now. Just like no one had ever expected Chres Vastia to die like this, no one would have guessed that someone would be able to capturing Ur Lund.

“I was, yes,” the bald man said as his fingers danced across the keyboard. “I didn’t know him well – but he was a good agent and a good father, too, I think. He talked a lot about his son.”

“Yes, he really was,” Gildarts muttered as he stepped out of the office and hurried down the endless hallways. Indeed, Vastia had been a good person which explained why Ur had taken his death so hard.

The task of picking up Lyon was hard, each day, because ever since Ur had disappeared, the little boy was seconds from freaking out – not that anyone could blame the kid. Lyon had lost his parents at a very young age and he had always been very fond of Ur – who was missing now, captured and probably in a not so good state. This was what worried Gildarts most, that there would undoubtedly be consequences for Ur and that she would probably suffer even more than before after this.

And the worst thing was that Gildarts had not found a possible outcome that would be even remotely positive for Lyon. Quite the opposite, the poor boy would end up being a casualty in a war not even his father would have wanted to fight – which all added to the bad feeling Gildarts had about the overall situation.

The way to Lyon’s school was short and it was easy to find the boy – there were not many with a hair colour such as his, after all – and then, there was the most painful moment of each day.

“…have you found Ur yet?” the boy asked as he climbed into the car, a forcibly neutral expression on his face. He was trying to act tough but it was obvious that this was not easy for him.

“Working on it,” he said as he left the school’s parking place behind. “Listen, Lyon, we’ll get her back. We won’t abandon her.”

“Dad used to say that he had her back, whatever that means,” the boy said quietly as he stared out of the window. “I – just don’t want her to be hurt. She’s nice.”

“We’ll get her back,” Gildarts repeated because there was little else he could say. He was doubting his own skills by now and he regretted his decision to never get any knowledge on how to find kidnapped people. He could need this now because there was a lot on the stakes.

(And he did not like to lose, he did not like it when he was beaten by somebody.)

And he had tried. He had tried to get into her head, he had not slept for days – until Dreyar had had the nerve to mix something into his tea that had knocked him out – and he had literally lived in the office, trying to get some connection to his missing ex-partner to understand what had happened, how it had been possible that an experienced agent had been kidnapped in broad daylight because as Fullbuster had pointed out to the director, it was not like Ur was some damsel in distress who needed them to watch her back and keep her safe. She could handle herself, usually.

It had surprised him slightly that his current partner cared so much about the situation but in the end, it was likely that Fullbuster was projecting his anger about the death of his ex-wife on the kidnapping which was just not fair for Ur because she did not deserve to be some replacement, to be the one who was saved just because another one had not been saved before – and he knew that if they would find her and his theory was right, Ur would break Fullbuster’s nose.

(Because she liked him, probably far too much and by now, she was likely aware of it.)

His ex-partner was a genius but she had never really gotten the important things in life. She had been entirely oblivious to her crush on Vastia, all those years ago, until someone had pointed it out to her so it was very unlikely that she had realised yet that she was doing something she really knew better than to do; crushing on a member of the team.

But thankfully, with the way Fullbuster behaved around her, she would rather eat her own badge than to admit any feelings which was probably not so healthy for her; the badge was not designed to be eaten by a young agent in complete denial of what was happening in her life – and more important, in her not so frozen heart.

“I hope you’ll find her soon,” Lyon said with a frown on his faced as he looked at his shoes. “I … I’m getting sick of being pushed around.”

And this was something Gildarts felt genuinely sorry about but no matter how they had tried to handle it, it was difficult to find a way to take care of Lyon (or Gray, for that matter) in a decent manner while searching far and wide for Ur. They had eyes and ears everywhere, each agent and each police officer in town had been informed about the kidnapping – and so it was hopefully only a matter of time before they would get a decent lead.

The sooner the better – especially for Ur.

“We have experts working on it,” he replied, briefly remembering that he had mentioned to Grandine Marvell that Fullbuster was going to check the apartment again so she would likely stop by there and this could only be helpful because she had once been the Top Tracker of the entire criminal investigation department.

It was awkward to pick up a girl he had never met before but the teacher listened to his explanations and then, the girl followed him, a pout on a face that would – and Gildarts was certain of this – one day break the hearts of countless young men who would fall for her.

“…is Jura okay?” the girl asked, a serious expression on her face as she followed Gildarts to the car, twirling a strand of her pink hair around her forefinger while she bit her lip.

“Agent Neekis,” Gildarts started.

 ** _“Jura,”_** she corrected with emphasis on the man’s first name. “His name is Jura, not agent.”

There was a moment in which the red-haired man genuinely considered to explain things to her but then, he remembered that she was six or something like this and she was currently very convinced that he was the least intelligent person in existence because he was obviously incapable of remembering the IT man’s name.

“Yes, Jura is fine, just working on something for me,” he said as he drove back to the headquarters, wondering if it was time to change his profession and to become a kindergarten teacher instead. He would make a great one, he was sure of it. He really liked children and they liked him and he was funny and did not get stressed easily – and everyone knew how stressful dealing with children could get.

“Did he eat his vegetables?” she asked and there was a brief moment in which the impossible happened: both Gildarts Clive and Lyon Vastia were entirely speechless. Gildarts because the girl seemed so genuine in her concern and Lyon because he did not quite comprehend what kind of child would willingly inquire about vegetables. Then, she was asking for a friend so maybe, she was not completely out of this world.

“Um,” Gildarts started as he frowned. “I guess? He is a responsible young man so I’d say that he ate his vegetables.”

“Good,” she said as she smiled, obviously relieved. “Jura is always so … serious.”

 _Serious_. A word that matched the young man quite well, in Gildarts’ opinion. “He works with good people,” he said after a moment.

It was true, among all the agents of ECID, there were not many who were as welcoming to newcomers – especially to those who had managed to get out of the formal training – as Grandine Marvell and the members of her team. Gildarts had encountered agents who had made a point out of getting rid of newcomers and he was still happy that he had never had to work with one of those people when he had been new, when his badge had still gleamed and he had not quite known what he was doing.

Here was to hoping that Neekis had cracked the code and that they would be finally able to access Ur’s computer and whatever she kept hidden in there – although he was still not comfortable with the invasion of her privacy.

(But they had to do whatever was necessary.)

Jura Neekis had indeed cracked the code and the face he made when they entered the office was a really serious one. Of course, the young man was seemingly always serious about everything. However, this was a whole new level of seriousness and Gildarts had a vague idea that he would not like whatever news the young man would have for him.

“Sir,” the young man said as he picked up the pink-haired girl and placed her on his shoulders which made her squeal with glee. “Agent Lund was carrying Agent Vastia’s badge when she was taken, correct? So an agent with a clearance level above mine … like Agent Lund herself … could track her down.”

“Thank you, Agent Neekis,” Gildarts said quietly as he smiled down at Lyon. “Why don’t you go see if Aunty Grandine has something for you to play with? I’ll just look at something…”

_And then, I’ll wait for my partner to show up so we can plot the rescue mission for your guardian so that we get her back and so that you no longer have to be afraid._

He waited until Lyon was out before he sent an email to Grandine Marvell, nearly begging her to take care of Lyon for the night because he had a very good feeling about this. Being able to track the signature of the badge would led them straight to Ur and this would bring them closer to finding her, to saving her. He had understood the seemingly pointless remark Jura Neekis had made. The software needed to track down badges that belonged to undercover agents was reserved to agents above level four or the agents that monitored the undercover assignments. Gildarts had gotten a promotion but this had not miraculously given him the clearance level to access the software. Ur who was a level four agent had the necessary level and her computer had been _conveniently_ unlocked by their friendly IT expert.

For this alone, he owed Jura Neekis a huge favour.

He entered the necessary data into the computer and averted his gaze, focusing on the sticky note Neekis had left behind – _Lund_ _, WPC Password: DILUCGFS_ – and he felt the horrible grasp on his insides again. Their initials were her password and this was something he would never have counted on and this was rare. But although he should think about the password, he ignored it and rather looked back at the screen.

And his heart nearly stopped beating for the first time because there was a clearly readable signature coming from the outskirts of town. And what nearly caused a heart attack on his side was that it was not just any area in the outskirts where she was supposedly located; it was the area of the destroyed Opalescent Building.

And although Gildarts Clive had long stopped cursing, this was a situation that required a loud “Oh holy fuck, no” because it all made sense to him all of a sudden – and as he turned around and looked at his partner who had reappeared, it seemed like Fullbuster had come to the same conclusions as well.

* * *

**and no one's there to save you**

* * *

 

Ivan could not even remember the last time he had felt this exasperated with what agents brought to him but as usual, Gildarts Clive and Silver Fullbuster aimed to surpass whatever he had believed was possible. So he leaned back in his chair, a frown on his face. “You two are idiots,” he declared and it was nothing but the truth.

“If all it takes to be called a genius is to realise this rather obvious fact, congratulations,” Fullbuster said as he rolled his eyes. The man was leaning against the table by the window and tried very hard to look unshaken. However, it took more than a mask of false bravado to fool Ivan and the medical examiner was very tempted to call the other man out on it.

“We need to get her out of there and we need to do it fast,” Clive said as he shrugged, toying around with his knife in a manner that was deeply unsettling in Ivan’s book. “I’m not willed to risk her life when we know…”

If the men were thinking that Ivan had not thought about this as well and that he had not come to the same conclusion they had, they would be mistaken. He had spent multiple hours meditating over the course, trying to figure out what was going on because it had kept his head occupied and he needed to function as a medical examiner even now, he could not afford to break or show any weakness. He had been called the spine of the team once and now, it was his job to support them all and to get them out alive and hopefully in one peace. And this would require a plan slightly better than the one he had been presented with moments ago. Ivan was perhaps not the kind of strategy expert his father was but this was mostly because he did not care about it enough to want to waste thoughts on it. If he was forced to switch on his brain in order to design a plan, he was very much capable of doing so.

“I understand,” the medical examiner said as he went through the sketches on his desk, the frown on his face growing more and more. The cellar beneath the Opalescent Building had been constructed as a maze and it would be far too easy to get lost there. If he had more time or a better guess where exactly Deliora’s followers – and they were the prime suspects for a damn good reason – were keeping their colleague, he could work out some kind of map but from the way it looked, they would have to search it the old-fashioned way and this was risky.

And this was not even touching the main problem. He had no doubt that Ooba Babasama was a wise woman and that her wisdom would demand from her that she acted cautiously, that she maintained her cover. She was already facing problems because one of her agents had been captured and unless she wanted to get in serious trouble, she would refrain from signing an order for them to enter the building to retrieve their comrade. And unless they had an order, they were not permitted to use their guns and this made it dangerous.

“It will be very difficult to get the necessary approval from the director,” he said carefully as he mused how their chances – and he would go with them, of course – were to take down the guards who had been skilled enough to capture Ur without weaponry.

“We don’t necessarily need it,” Clive said as he bit his lip, pacing around in the room. It was one of the most annoying an agent could have, in Ivan’s opinion. Their constant pacing was incredibly distracting and he got paid to think about what he needed to do and people who could not hold still for a few minutes made his job harder than it had to be.

“This isn’t NAHA anymore, Clive,” he said as he shook his head. He had a lot of respect for his mother’s agents and their training but in the real world, in the world where crimes usually did not have an international dimension, they were a little lost at times. Especially when they forgot that there would be no squad of doctors and scientists waiting back at the base, willed to piece them back together. “You have no genius-level biochemists at your disposal who can mix together a poison at moment’s notice.”

“Actually, I think I could get someone to mix us poisons,” the field agent said as he pressed his lips together, his eyes guarded. Ivan knew what he was talking about and he nearly kicked himself because he should have seen this one coming. Gildarts Clive had a very long list of uniquely skilled people at his disposal and he had the numbers of more than just one ex-NAHA scientist who was now working independently.

“I doubt that this is the point, right now,” Fullbuster said as he drummed a nervous rhythm onto the table, his gaze averted. “We can’t use guns so I doubt we’d get away with using whatever poison we can get our hands on.”

It was a very important statement, one that made the little fight pointless. It made sense, of course. As soon as they were no longer on duty, they were normal people. No guns, no fancy biological weaponry. Just their brains and their martial arts training. And frankly, this was not exactly what formed a good foundation for a plan that would be dangerous enough if they had the chance to send in fully-armed agents who had been trained for this sort of thing.

“So we got no guns, no fancy lab stuff…” Clive summarised as he sighed deeply. Especially the lack of ‘fancy lab stuff’ was something that could cost them the operation. Although officially, agents of ECID were not permitted to use any equipment that had not been approved of by T&E – Technology and Equipment – it would be ridiculous to assume that anyone had ever listened to that rule. Especially their team usually rolled their eyes at the rule when it was mentioned because why did they have access to the very awesome things constructed by no one less than Jacques Lund himself if they would not use it on the field? The product development branch of North Cooperation came up with amazing little gadgets to make their jobs easier all the time and it would be ridiculous not to use them just because they were lacking the stamp of approval.

Ivan’s own field equipment bag had quite a few prototypes from the workbench of Priscilla Lund, Ur’s grandmother, who had been a surgeon before she had been so fed up with the awful quality of her utensils that she had gone out to build better things.

“Well, I suppose that we’d get away with using, I don’t know, seemingly outdated Lund tech,” Ivan said in an attempt to appear as innocent which failed pathetically because they all knew that there was no such thing as outdated anything in their office. The things they got were always top of the line and it made their work easier.

“I can’t believe that we’re going to save Ur with a bunch of tech, two field agents and a medical examiner,” Clive groaned as he massaged his temples. The poor man was close to a breakdown and Ivan could not even blame him because his situation was unfortunate. They would have no backup from anyone as they were acting on their own and while their personal equipment was top of the line, it was not quite what they had expected. And it certainly was not what they needed. What they needed was a short black-haired specialist for the niche aspects of the job.

“I guess we don’t have a choice,” Ivan said as he rolled up the plans of the maze beneath the destroyed building, the frown deep on his face. “Unless you want to put Ur’s safety at risk by trying to gather more agents for this quest.”

“There are no ex-agents of NAHA in town at the moment,” the man said as he opened the closet, changing out of his uniform into a more combat-suited garb before he went through the drawers, gathering as many useful devices as he could carry. “Or better said: while there are ex-NAHA-people in town, they aren’t the sort you ask to come on such a quest.”

He was talking about scientists, maybe about the kind of people he would have asked for equipment back in the days because they had been able to build everything he had ever needed and more, too. But there was no point in getting a scientist on the field because they would be sitting ducks, waiting for someone to take them down – they would be a liability.

“So the best plan – not that it deserves the name – is to go in, take down as many supporters of our most favourite terrorist as possible, get Ur and get out,” Ivan muttered as he massaged his temples. It was a horrible idea and under different circumstances he would have refused to have anything to do with this insanity but they were running out of options and it was time to make a deal with the devil.

“You make it sound even more terrible than it is,” Clive muttered.

“I personally doubt that there is a way to make this disaster sound even more like a, well, _catastrophe_ ,” Ivan snapped as he stretched his arms. It would be so easy for him to say that he would rather not go there. He was more of a scientist after all and scientists had no place on the battlefield. However, there was little doubt that Ur would do the same for him any given day and he did not want to let her down.

“I guess we should get going, then,” Fullbuster said as he sighed deeply, stepping away from where he had been sitting. Given Ivan’s experiences with soldiers – his father was a general, after all – the man was currently locking away all his emotions to a further degree than what he was usually doing to ensure they would not get in his way.

Ivan knew that no matter how much Fullbuster tried, he would not get the emotional side out of his head. Ur was if he wanted to be kind about it someone who was impossible to ignore and if he wanted to be less friendly, he would call her a parasite, eating its way through someone’s brain and making them hers a little but never completely because no one had ever been hers alone and sometimes, she was scared by the very idea.

But then, they went out.

They did not speak on their way to the car or on the street because there was nothing to say. They were all terrified in some way for different reasons and Ivan was not even sure if he was the one who was most terrified.

For Ivan it was – for one – that he had never gotten the chance to collect any actual field experience. Only cases of biggest importance required him to leave headquarters during his shifts and they occurred rarely. He usually went for weeks without a single occasion where he stepped outside but right now, he was nearly happy that he had been included. It was, of course, mostly because they had a shortage of agents they could involve in the rescue mission but it was nothing he wasted any thoughts upon because right now, his mind was occupied with more important thoughts. For one, there was this numbing fear that something might already have happened to Ur and that he would be the one to perform the autopsy on her. And then, there was a more positive thought that kept him similarly busy. He could not help but wonder why on earth Fullbuster was so into this entire investigation. It struck him as very odd but then, he remembered his sneaking suspicion that something might have happened between Ur and the specialist a while back which might made matters more complicated.

But now, there were more important things to consider and he pushed those thoughts away.

The night was cold as they left the car and watched how Fullbuster used his laser cutter – where had he gotten it from, anyway? – to open the gate that locked the grounds where the ruins of the Opalescent Building were away from the general public. Technically, if they found supporters of Deliora but not Ur, they could put them on trial for trespassing which was an oddly comforting thought.

“Anyone who wants to summon a demon?” Fullbuster jested in a rather obvious attempt to ease the general tension. “I bet you got a splendid connection to hell from this place.”

“Can we perhaps not discuss the summoning of demons while we try to save Ur?” Clive snapped, seemingly unable to take the joke which was very rare for him. Usually, he was the first one to make one but when he was truly stressed out, his sense of humour was the first to go. And it was not even like Ivan could blame him. Gildarts Clive had lost many good friends along the years and there was no saying how he could react if Ur would be added to this ever-growing list of names. For all his emotional strength and his incredible ability to bounce back from virtually every trauma he had ever suffered, the man was only human in the end and he was well-capable of feeling pain even though he rarely showed it.

“I’ll bring it up later again, no worries,” Fullbuster promised as they stepped onto the grounds. “Damn, I’d love to have a nightscope now.”

“There are four people around,” Clive said as he straightened up again, moving into a fighting stance. Under usual circumstances, Ivan would have asked an agent who could impossibly have seen their opponents-to-be and yet claimed that he knew they were there. However, he had grown up around NAHA agents as his mother had been one as well before she had made it director of the agency and so it did not even surprise him.

“Can you take them alone?” the medical examiner asked instead as he tilted his head. Usually, he was not one to order others around but he was the smartest one around – well, he usually was – and he wanted to save his own strength for a situation where it would be necessary.

“I thought you’d never ask,” the man smirked as he disappeared into the darkness without a sound, shedding off his jacket on the go.

“I suppose … he is a bit over motivated for all of this,” Fullbuster muttered as he rolled his eyes, rolling his shoulders. “But I guess that not shooting anyone has an advantage, too.”

“Yes, they won’t hear us coming,” Ivan nodded as he picked up Clive’s jacket. “Not going to try to deduce my mother’s logic but I think that’s why she has her agents trained in martial arts.”

There was not a single sound that would have alerted anyone to the way an agent was currently taking out the guard and Ivan made the mental note to congratulate his mother to her training methods the next time he saw her – which would probably not be before the end of the year as she had left the country, once again.

“Found the entrance,” Clive announced as he returned, wordlessly plucking the jacket out of Ivan’s grasp. “I guess that in there, we have more guards.”

“And here I was about to get bored,” Fullbuster said as they started to move through the darkness, following Clive because he knew the way. It was not easy to get to the hidden cellar entrance. For once, it had never been supposed to be an actual entry when the building had been first constructed and then, there was the problem with having to climb over destroyed parts of the building. This place had been abandoned a long time ago. There had been plans to turn it into a memorial but then, the owner had sold the areal to North Cooperation and ever since, there were no precise plans for a new era, for a new start.

“Well, the cure for your boredom is here,” Clive said as he mentioned towards the trapdoor. “The moment we go in, we’ll be on their screens. I have no doubt that they reactivated whatever surveillance equipment was here.”

“I suppose we should hurry, then,” Ivan replied as he opened the door and entered the cellar. In there, it was not really bright but it was easier to navigate. He breathed deeply, calming himself. This was not his world and usually, he would have avoided this sort of thing like the plague but this was for an important cause and he could not spend the rest of his life running from everything that reminded him of his parents while people he cared for got hurt.

The maze beneath the ruin was just as confusing as he had expected it to be. It had been Ur who had constructed it and she did nothing half-hearted. She had invested a lot of thought into it and this was what led them through it – because Ivan could not rely on the plans he had found but he could rely on his knowledge about the mind that had created the labyrinth. They also followed the trace of opponents but there were only a few and while it was cowardly to attack them from behind, this ambush tactic was the only way to counter their guns.

“I think we’re getting closer,” Clive muttered as he stepped over the fallen body of the man Fullbuster had taken down with a single punch which was proof that the ex-soldier was not holding back at all. Then, this would be a very bad occasion to develop modesty.

“Suppose so, yes,” Ivan nodded as he moved his elbow, hitting his opponent’s stomach with all his force, and as the man doubled over, the medical examiner delivered his punch, feeling with a sense of twisted satisfaction how the man’s nose broke.

And then, they turned the corner and spotted a door flanked by two men in a way that spelled out ‘prisoner is being kept here’. There would be no time for a well-planned ambush, Ivan just realised when Clive moved faster than ever before, dodging two bullets like it meant nothing to him before he grabbed the guards’ collars and smashed their heads against each other. It was not pretty, it was not refined but it fulfilled its purpose.

And then, the way was free and Ivan took the key Clive had gotten from the left guard’s belt to unlock the cell’s door, hoping to finally receive knowledge about Ur’s state.

He first failed to see her when he scanned the cell but then, he spotted her. It was dark and mouldy – he made a mental note of telling the doctors that they should do something to make sure her lungs would take no permanent damage – and it had never been meant to keep a person hidden for a prolonged time. Usually, it would not have been a place to contain Ur for a longer amount of time but as she sat up from where she had been curled up on the pretend-bed, he realised that her right arm was set in an awkward angle, broken.

“Ur,” he whispered before he stepped aside to let Clive pass. Interestingly enough, Fullbuster got to her before the red-haired man. This was a fascinating development – and a dangerous one, too. Ur had always been unstable after life-changing experiences, very willed to make drastic changes and he was not sure if this would be a good starting point. Thankfully, as long as neither of them realised that the feeling was very much mutual, there was nothing to fear.

For the first time in years, Ur looked pale and nearly ill. The bags beneath her eyes had never  been quite as noticeable and even when she had been grieving, she had never allowed herself to look this bad. Her lips were chapped and she looked like she needed a shower before she would feel human again. And she had obviously not seen much food since she had been thrown into this hole. Whatever her capturers had planned to do with her, they had wanted her alive for it but not healthy. And by weakening her, they had made sure that she could not even attempt to flee.

“You came for me,” the woman muttered hoarsely, her voice nearly breaking. “I thought … I thought I’d … die down here.”

“Don’t talk,” Clive ordered as he opened a bottle of water and handed it to her. “We’ll discuss everything later … it has highest priority for us to get you out of here.”

She obeyed, reaching for the bottle with her good hand before she drank, her eyes close. She emptied the bottle too fast and coughed as she rose from the makeshift bed. “Thanks,” she whispered as she mentioned towards the chain that bound her to the wall. Whoever had devised this plan had gone out of his way to make sure that she would stay where they wanted her to be, obviously aware of her training. Although, ultimately, her broken arm had kept her from escaping.

Freeing Ur from where her leg was bound to the wall was easy thanks to the laser cutter Fullbuster had in his possession. And ironically, getting out of the cellar was easy as well because the terrorists they had knocked down and unarmed on their way in had been cuffed. This was the sole warning that a third party might be on the scene they got before the tall woman stepped out of the shadows.

Sometimes, Ivan hated his parents.

Right now, he did not hate them. He had no idea how his mother had found out about the entire situation but she was there and although he could not see them, it was obvious that she had brought a crew of her best agents.

“Ivan,” the woman said darkly as she mentioned towards one of her hidden agents to leave the area. “I thought you wouldn’t go out into the field.”

“You know, mother, I make exceptions for good friends,” he said with a shrug before he mentioned towards the van in the distance where agents of NAHA were leading cuffed terrorists to. “Why are you here?”

“An agent tipped us off, said that you got trouble,” his mother said with a faint smile as she nodded at her former subordinates. “Get Lund to hospital, the arm needs to be set.”

And then, without any explanation at all, she turned around and disappeared into the night. Ivan gritted his teeth and as he looked at Clive, he found the man’s face to be a mirror of his own; reflecting utter annoyance.

“So I know that she’s your mother, Dreyar,” Fullbuster said, “but that attitude? It’s _annoying_.”

“Oh believe me, he knows,” Ur said as she coughed, “though hospital doesn’t sound too bad.” 

* * *

**oh no we won’t go ‘cause we don’t know when to quit**

* * *

 

Ur had always had an irrational dislike for hospitals but she had to admit that she felt far better once her arm was in a cast and she had taken a bubble bath and eaten properly. Now, she was dressed into an old grey t-shirt – which she had considered to have been missing for the past three years and that had suddenly reappeared in some corner of Gildarts’ apartment – and comfortable black pants and she was sitting upright in her hospital bed while Lyon was curled up at her feet.

“I’m actually pretty sure that you’re supposed to rest,” Ivan scolded gently as he leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, yawning deeply. He was exhausted and she could not blame him. Although he had certainly received some basic combat training when he had been younger – his mother was the director and his father a general – he had never had the chance to collect experience or endurance so that he was exhausted faster than her or the both other men.

“Believe me, no longer having to fear for my life is relaxing enough for now,” she replied as she rested her broken arm on Lyon’s shoulder before she reached for another apple, taking a bite as she closed her eyes. Her capturers had been planning for her death to become an event which had been why they had kept her alive but only barely. A few days longer in their care and she would have suffered permanent damage but as she had been rescued in time, she would make full recover rather soon.

“You should still sleep,” Gildarts said as he raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly at their medical examiner. “And Ivan should go home, too. Actually – the boss said that someone will keep an eye on you tonight.”

She grimaced at those news although she had expected them. It had certainly be embarrassing for Director Babasama that one of her best agents had been kidnapped and that no one had been able to make any progress for days. So to demonstrate that she had everything under control, she would position some agents in front of the door and this was just smart.

“It’s fine by me,” she said quietly as she leaned against the headboard, the adrenaline in her blood slowly fading away and making room for her fatigue. She had not slept much in captivity because she had been afraid for her life and she wanted to rest peacefully. She would go through a full debrief once the director stopped by but until then, she was told to rest and focus on recovering from the experience.

“We’ll leave you then,” Ivan said as he got up, stepping on Silver’s foot and glancing at the man in a manner that implied that he tried to tell him something of importance. “Clive – can you drop me off at the subway station?”

So Ivan’s current objective was matchmaking and this was not only a very odd thing to consider, it was also rather out of character for the black-haired man. It was not like she did not appreciate the sentiment. Ivan was part of the family she had chosen – as opposed to the people she shared a blood relation with – and this was why he got away with considerably more than ordinary people. But even her patience with him had its limits – and he was pushing it.

But Gildarts did not see it and agreed and before she could do something, they had left her alone with Silver (and Lyon but he was asleep). She was not quite sure whether Gildarts had caught on and had decided that rather than to be a good best friend, he wanted to see her suffer the way she had made him suffer in the time when he had been unable to talk to Cornelia or if he was truly blind to what was happening right under his nose.

“So you’re back,” Silver said awkwardly, lounging in the doorframe. “It’s probably good then that we didn’t sell your apartment yet.”

“Don’t tell me you were actually considering that,” she scoffed as she smirked at him, carefully covering Lyon with the blanket. Whoever had decided that she would get not only a private room but likely the most luxurious in the entire building had probably forgotten that she was rather short and that the bed was _huge_.

“I suppose we were a bit too busy chasing ghosts to actually talk about the possibility that you might not come back,” he said with a shrug before he approached her and slumped down on the chair again. “Met your grandpa and your cousin. Does your grandpa really call you pumpkin or was he playing me?”

She felt mortified as she nodded slightly. Her grandfather truly had a certain talent to embarrass her in front of her colleagues but there was no denying it because sooner or later, her grandfather would make an appearance at her work and this would be when he would reveal everything she had tried to cover up. “It’s because I was wearing a lot of orange as an infant,” she explained as she sighed deeply. “He never let me live it down.”

“Sounds adorable but I guess it’s one of the nicknames that are bound to one person, Bambi,” he said with a wink and she rolled her eyes. “But he seemed like a good man.”

“He is a _very_ good man,” she said with a tiny nod before she yawned, pressing her hand to her mouth. “Look, I am honestly sorry but I feel like I’ll pass out in a few.”

He chuckled as he reached out to pat her shoulder. “Get well soon, really,” he said as he looked straight into her eyes. “I’m not sure how long I can put up with the genius and the idiot.”

She laughed in spite of herself and finally arranged Lyon’s position on the bed so that the small child took up less place and had a pillow placed under his head. This was quite a challenge with one broken arm but she had managed to do more complicated things. “I plan to come back next Monday,” she said as she smiled tiredly at him.

“No one would blame you for taking more time off,” he said and she decided to blame it on his exhaustion that he was behaving nearly civil. “You have been through a rough time.”

“Here goes a secret,” she said as she twirled a strand of Lyon’s hair around her finger. “I hate hospitals … and I look forward to getting out.”

He laughed as he got up and then, he rested his hand on her shoulder. “You know what?” he asked as he grinned down at her. “Once you leave this horrible place, we’ll make Clive buy dinner for the whole team. It’ll be grand.”

“Sounds good to me,” she said with a nod before she slipped under her covers. “Or I’ll get granny to host a dinner to celebrate my rescue from the terrorists or something like that.”

“That might include me wearing a penguin suit so it’s not my preferred option,” he said as he shuddered in an exaggerated manner. “And although I know that ladies such as yourself appreciate a handsome man in a nice suit, there are some sacrifices I’m not willed to make.”

“I think that most women would be willed to spill their drinks on your shirt the moment you talk like this,” she said as she reached for the light switch. “Now, get home safe so I don’t have to worry … and tell Gil tomorrow that I am awfully sorry.”

He said something on his way out but she had already allowed the painkillers to finally take her into the world of dreamless sleep and so she missed whatever he had to tell her. In the end, she cheered herself up, he would tell her again if it was something he thought to be important.


	14. xiv.

**off with his head, i’m done with his lies**

* * *

 

She had known that he would come and that there would be no way for her dodge this confrontation. Therefore, she sent Lyon to school and painted her lips red as blood while she waited for disaster to strike. She did not want this, she would prefer for him to stay away, to remain a missing person in her life – but just as she had told Gildarts mere weeks ago, Bane Milkovich was a vulture by nature and his favourite activity was to circle above her head whenever she felt miserable.

It was midday when the man finally strolled into the hospital room, his blond hair sliced back in a style he really could not pull off. “I heard about your little … _vacation_ ,” he said smoothly and she remembered that it had been his voice what had lured her into his trap once before because she had been too blind to see that someone who had a silver tongue could easily fool even someone as perceptive as her.

“I prefer the term _kidnapping_ ,” she replied as she wrapped her good hand around her cast, her eyes downcast. She was tense and she felt like a bowstring that had been drawn back to the farthest point, ready to shot an arrow. “You do remember that I always preferred it very much when you stayed on fact.”

She did not allow herself to show her distress but it had been years since she had had to deal with Bane and his personality – which had always been the main problem – and for a brief moment, she wished that she would not have to be alone with him. The man was unpredictable and he had a way with words that could be extremely hurtful when he wanted it to be. And his words could cut her even though she did not care about him.

“Oh yeah, I had forgotten how you need everything to be labelled precisely,” he said with a snort before he sat down on the chair where Ivan had been sitting the night before. “Would never have guessed that someone would kidnap you.”

“Then I hope you hadn’t any money on that,” she snapped as she glared at him, black eyes gleaming with fury. There were many things she wanted to tell them – and quite a few were consisting of words she would never use in Lyon’s presence – but right now, she was waiting. Before she would speak, she wanted to hear why he was there.

“It has come to my attention,” he started as he leaned in, nearly invading her personal space, “that your colleagues led an unauthorised rescue operation to get you back home.”

So this was what it was all about. Considering that she was out of his reach, she should have known that he would go after her team. It was just so fitting for him to swoop in and ruin everything for her team to get back at her. It was a miracle that someone had genuinely thought that he would be suited for the position of disciplinary officer when he held grudges like a toddler. In her opinion, he should never have left kindergarten.

“I suppose this is last evidence needed to prove that you are a pathetic little _slimeball_ ,” she said coolly as she shifted her position into one that would allow her to punch him when the need occurred. “This isn’t about them. You couldn’t care less about them. This is about me.”

She had never been more happy that she was entirely over whatever had once attracted her to him. What she had told Layla was true; she was so over Bane that she doubted that she had ever been into him in the first place. And it was good that she had been cleansed from whatever it had been because otherwise, she might have been torn apart by it.

She had been so much better when he had been out of her life. It had helped her to tackle the issues she had had after the death of the little girl head on and she had even regained a certain sense of normality along the road once the pity in his eyes had been no longer in her mind.

(And she had always hated the pity of others.)

His pity had driven her nearly insane. He had not been able to understand that the event had changed her forever and that nothing he could say or do would turn back time to before the decisions she had made had turned her into a different person. It had been a chain she had not been able to free herself from, the way he had looked at her afterwards.

She had understood and accepted that she would never be the same again and she had also realised that no one else would be willed to accept this as peacefully as she had. When she had been still in the office, filing the report – shaking and crying because everything hurt – and trying to come to terms with what had happened, she had known that Gildarts would never be able to understand that her old self was gone and that she had little interest in getting it back as the chapter had been finished.

(However, she had sometimes missed herself in the following months.)

“Why do you think it’s all about you?” Bane asked and this nearly made her laugh. “Can’t remember that you ever were self-absorbed.”

Ur nearly laughed because this was hilarious in a twisted way. “Perhaps because you never managed to remember Gildarts’ name,” she said as she drummed a quick rhythm onto her cast. “And usually, if you care about people, you do remember their names … that’s just an observation I made.”

And she had made many observations along the years. She had seen that sometimes, the only way to get better was to hit rock bottom first. She had experienced betrayal, especially back at NAHA where everyone had been cruel to each other. There was a lot of wisdom she had collected simply by living. And she had learned that she was better off without someone like Bane who would merely tear her apart at the first chance he got.

“You made a lot of observations but even you can’t do anything about the fact that your team will be in serious trouble with my department very soon,” he said and there was this smug grin that had taught her to hate him because it nearly made her feel sick.

“Oh, I actually doubt this,” she said as she crossed her arms. “You know – they left their guns at headquarters. This was not the action of agents, this was the action of normal people.”

“And you really think that my department will let them get through with this?” he asked and now, he had taken it a step too far because she moved swiftly, pressing her bad arm against her as she crouched on the bed, able to jump at him and hurt him at any given time.

“Don’t drag your poor colleagues into a mess that is solely between you and me,” she hissed as she cracked her knuckles. “And don’t push me any further, _Agent Milkovich_.”

“And you really believe that you can pick a fight with my department and get away without having to face any consequences?” he asked and ironically, he could hardly be more wrong. She knew that he could ruin her career, that he could pull strings to have her permanently reassigned but she also knew that he was just too aware that other national agencies – and maybe even a few international ones – would be very happy to have her.

“I suppose we both know that you can’t ruin me as much as you’d like to,” she said softly as she returned to a more relaxed position, her lips curling upwards.

“Am I interrupting something?”

She turned her head and smiled at Silver who was standing in the doorframe, carrying a stack of files. “No, no worries,” she said calmly as she mentioned for him to come in. “I think that Agent Milkovich was on his way out. It’s good to see you, Silver.”

There was a dangerous flicker in his eyes as he pushed himself off the frame and into the room, crossing with quickly. “Feeling any better, Bambi?” he asked innocently while Bane spluttered behind him. “I bring good news from your doctors; you’re free to go.”

She grinned at him as she placed her signature on the file he was holding out to her. “Sounds good,” she said with a yawn. “And I slept well.”

“Happy to hear that, really,” he said as he pocketed the files again. “Clive’s waiting by the car … he didn’t trust himself not to break someone’s nose up here. Well, I can understand his worry about that … I heard enough to be slightly interested in the same thing.”

“Don’t waste your talents on small fishes, Silver,” she said as she slipped into her shoes and started to throw personal belongings into a bag before she took note of the band-aid on her arm which told her that she had been on an IV while she had been out. Sighing, she decided not to address this.

“I suppose we should hurry, Goldilocks supposedly gets cranky when people are late,” the black-haired agent said with a grin as he not-so-casually ignored Bane’s existence in the room. “And Dreyar got a call from her Ladyship about brunch tomorrow but he didn’t schedule anything yet in case you want to rest up more.”

“That’s gonna be rough but I’m up to it,” she said as she threw the back over her shoulder, flinching as it hit her broken arm. “And I’ll make sure that you don’t have to wear a penguin suit … we talked about that last night, no?”

“Considering that you were out like a light once your head hit the pillow, I’m impressed that you remember that detail,” he said as he took the bag from her, his lips quirking upwards as he saw Bane’s shocked face. No matter what the agent from Zinnia was thinking, it was certainly not even anywhere close to the truth.

“Remember where I was trained,” she said as she grabbed the jacket Ivan had brought and wrapped it around her. “But no worries, I’ll make sure that everything will be as casual as my grandmother can manage … calling her _‘her Ladyship’_ is actually highly accurate.”

It was indeed because Priscilla Lund had been born as Priscilla _about eight middle names_ Brooks and this was old Icebergian nobility. Her family had been extremely poor by the time Priscilla had been born and so the woman had perhaps at a title but never any wealth to it until she had married Jacques Lund who had been Fiorean upper class. And then, together, they had build their cooperation, their empire.

“Oh yes, I know all about that, Dreyar filled me in as he called about everything who might be able to tell him what your grandma’s game might be,” he shrugged as they turned to leave the hospital room behind because there was nothing that still held Ur there.

“One moment, Agent Lund,” Bane said and his voice was so cold that for a moment, Ur could have sworn she could see his breath. “While Mrs Lund’s game may be a mystery to all of mankind, yours is actually rather obvious. However, you were betting on something long gone.”

Now, this was getting interesting. Ur crossed her arms as good as she could and smiled patiently at him. “And what, Agent Milkovich, might that be?” she asked although she knew.

“You live with the _absurd_ idea that I still care enough about you to mind if you date a co-worker,” he said with yet another smug smirk. “However, if anything, I pity him … because you and I, we both know just how messed up you are.”

She smiled at him in an unnerving manner as her gaze grew colder by the second. She had been civil so far and she had never revealed what had been the precise reason for her to end things with him. But he had just broken whatever truce they previously had and now, he would be the one to go down. “Aside from the fact that I am currently not dating anyone,” she started, “I think that you are the one who kept me underwater. You knew that I was drowning and rather than to pull me back up, you said that I was only imaging the water.”

“…and things like this are what makes me want to break his nose, you know?” Silver muttered as he ruffled his own hair. “It’s frustrating.”

“I know, I know,” she said as she stepped into the hallway while her thoughts were racing. Although Bane was a horrible person, he was gifted with above-average intellectual skills and he was not someone to accuse people of being romantically involved. “We really should get out of here,” she added as she stopped herself from thinking any thoughts she might come to regret at a later point of time. “Before you change your mind and break his nose.”

* * *

**far beneath the bitter snows**

* * *

There were two reasons why Silver Fullbuster was sleeping in Ur Lund’s guest room. The first reason was that the director still insisted on agents being with the formerly kidnapped woman all around the clock and it had been an easy enough task to handle. The second reason was that for some reason, Gray had met Lyon who had told him everything about the awesome toys he had back at his place and so after a bit of cautious probing, it had been decides that Gray and Lyon would have a sleepover while Silver was on guard duty.

It was no ideal solution and he was nearly sure that there were at least a million rules and regulations that said something about how this should not be done but after what they had all been through, after the days where everyone had been afraid that she might have been killed, Silver was certain that no one expected them to suddenly abide to all the rules. She was a member of their team and according to most people, teams took care of their members.

He woke up because there was someone in the kitchen, making one hell of a noise, and so he reached for the gun under his pillow and pushed open the door to the living room, realising that the light was on. Inhaling, he took a cautious step – it was so like her to insist on wooden floors although they could creak so easily and ruin everything – as he approached the kitchen slowly. There was no need to rush, not this time. He had everything under his control, there was no reason at all to worry.

The door was halfway open and the first thing he saw was red. The colour belonged to – and that was actually not even surprising anymore at this point – Ur Lund’s bathrobe. He exhaled as he stuffed the gun into the holster he was still wearing although his instructors would have murdered him for this, as he stepped into the kitchen, scaring the hell out of her and finding himself on the other side of a kitchen knife.

Not exactly the most impressive weapon she had ever handled and definitely not the most remarkable weapon that was currently in her apartment and likely, in the kitchen.

“You can’t just appear out of nowhere!” she hissed as she returned the knife to the block where it belonged, furiously trying to wipe away spilled milk with her good arm.

“Sorry,” he said and he realised that he was really not feeling good or even entertained about this. She had been through more than enough in the past days, she did not need him to scare her just for fun. “What happened here?”

Both her hands were clenched to fists and her teeth were gritted as she threw the sponge into the kitchen sink and slumped down on a chair, sighing deeply. “The milk can slipped out of my fingers,” she said and she sounded endlessly frustrated, “because I heard a sound.”

“I guess that given what happened,” he started carefully as he picked up the metal container from the floor, “it is just normal that you react to sounds in such a manner.”

“It’s not supposed to be like this,” she said as she buried her face in the hand that belonged to her good arm. “I am jumpier than ever before … Gildarts and Ivan don’t trust me to be alone … I’m turning into someone completely useless.”

“You are too harsh with yourself,” he said as he yawned. He was too tired to deal with her bruised ego right now, especially since what she needed most right now was some sleep. “And remember – they broke your arm on purpose. They were not sure if just chaining you to that wall would be enough to hold you down.”

She snorted softly as she straightened her spine, a frown on her face. “I don’t get you,” she admitted as she shook her head. “I wish I would but – I look at you and I have no idea what you are hiding beneath all of that carefully crafted coolness … there is something else.”

“If it makes you happy – I haven’t figured you why you like to pretend that you are an ice cold bitch, either,” he replied as he reached for the bottle of orange juice, “but for now, it’s not the time to muse about this.”

“Did you consider,” she started as her eyes  followed his movements with more attention that it should be necessary, “that it’s maybe no act? That I am maybe really an ice cold bitch?”

“An interesting thought,” he said as he took a sip of his drink, looking back at her because she did not look happy at all. “But seriously? I doubt it. You seem to be one of those people who got hurt one too many times and who lock themselves away.”

“You’re wrong,” she said calmly as she looked back to the table by the window where files were piling up. He groaned inwardly. They had all said that she was supposed to take a break from work, that she should relax and make a full recovery before she should get involved with anything again but it seemed like she had pulled some strings and had gotten her hands on something she should not be able to look at. He was not sure how people expected them to keep her safe when all she did was to use her old influence and her natural ability to charm about everyone to get information she was not supposed to have any access whatsoever to.

“What’s this?” he asked as he wondered if this was the sort of thing that was worth it to get Clive out of bed. “You know that you are not supposed to work and this includes reading files, really. What are you _thinking_ , Ur?”

She just shrugged as she reached over, flipping open one of the blue folders. “That if I stay out of everything any longer, I’ll probably lose my mind,” she said drily as she scratched her wrist. “I was never good with being confined to one place, honestly … and it never got much better.”

He was silent as he slumped down on another chair, yawning. “So what kind of case is this?” he asked as he mused how the chances were that she actually told him anything about this.

“Bank robbery,” she said as she reached for the glass of milk, balancing the folder with her bad arm. “Not my usual cup of tea, truth be told, but it is the only thing that’s currently available for me … and I have a very bad feeling about this.”

He did not like it when she said that she had a bad feeling about something because she was usually right and it had never bode well for any of them when something bad was coming for them. And now, their team was short one person and yet, they were always tasked with the cases that spelled out trouble – he was not happy at all about this, quite the opposite.

“How bad?” he asked as he opened one of the files and frowned at it. “Just bad or really bad?”

“Bad enough that I feel like pushing my body a bit to get back to work earlier,” she muttered as she frowned at the written words on the paper, sighing deeply. “Gil, of course, is not going to like this – he is a little too worried…”

“You had all of us worried,” he said as he looked away from her. It was weirdly fitting for her to be entirely oblivious to the fact that it had been not only Clive who had been driven nearly insane with worry. Maybe it was for the better, he guessed then, that she was so focused on her ex-partner that she did not look close enough for others who might have been worried as well because he was not sure how he would explain this to her.

“Gil said as much,” she said quietly as she lowered her file for a moment. “And I am very sorry for doing this to all of you.”

“You didn’t ask for this,” he said with a shrug, hoping that she would let the topic die. “And we got you back in time. All’s fine again now.”

“Aside from the fact that I got a broken arm and am terrified of my own shadow.”

She sounded bitter and he was certain that this was the way she had felt all along even when she had been smiling and laughing, trying to keep her frustration from everyone else. And as usual, only fatigue and pain – she had not taken her pain medication and he had not reminded her – could tear the mask off her face. She did not like to appear as weak, perhaps a consequence of working in a male-dominated field where the moods of women were usually ignored even though they often had a good reason to be cranky.

“I would lie,” he started as he wondered when exactly someone had decided that he was the right man to talk about feelings, “when I would say that I understand what is going on with you. Hell, half the time, I can’t even tell you what’s going on with me. Layla knows those things, I don’t care all that much … as long as I can function the way I have to.”

“If this was supposed to cheer me up, it doesn’t work that way,” she said grimly as she massaged her temples, her face momentarily forming a grimace of pain.

“The thing is, you’ll have to learn how to deal with the changes and there are no shortcuts and there’s no way to fake it,” he said as he pushed the box with the painkillers into her direction. “Deep know, you know all of this so you can’t say I’m lying.”

“I actually doubt there would be any benefit for you in lying to me,” she said as she threw the pills into her mouth and took a sip of her drink to wash them all down. “Still, thanks. You’re right … I have to just deal with it. It won’t be pretty and physiotherapy will be a torture…”

“No one said that you’ll need it,” he said as he rested his feet on the free chair, leaning back in the unusually comfortable kitchen chair. “There’s a good chance you’ll get out of it.”

“The arm wasn’t treated for five days,” she said as she scowled, massaging her wrist now. “But I suppose that it could have been worse … they could have broken my leg.”

“See? You should look at the bright side of this,” he said and was not even surprised when she rolled her eyes at him, the comment had been as cheesy as it had been unnecessary.

“I’ll be interested to find out if you’ll be as cheery in the morning,” she said as she smirked at him, her gaze leaving the clock on the wall. It made sense that she was not sleeping, she had been napping all day while he had been making generous use of her high end entertainment room after he had found the collection of action movies she owned.

“I probably won’t be,” he said as he yawned. “But neither will you – considering that Clive is going to pick us up really early because the brunch thing takes place out of town.”

* * *

**i think i've had enough of this**

* * *

Gildarts had not expected that Ur would be bright-eyed and cheery when he picked her, Lyon and their  _guests_ up because it was the ancient rule of  _sleepovers_ that no one ever slept properly and even Ur who was usually a very intelligent woman would probably not have slept as much as she should have. However, it was Fullbuster who was yawning as Gildarts mentioned towards the van he had borrowed from his neighbour. No one who was on the team had a car big enough to transport all of them and while it was certainly obvious to be picked up by a driver employed by Ur’s family, this was something solely for emergencies.

“Morning, Ur,” he greeted as he opened the door for her. “You are looking a bit tired.”

“Lyon woke up at six in the morning and I have been entertaining him ever since,” she said with a scoff as she nodded at him. “Kids, really. If I was you, I’d rethink the proposal idea.”

He was taken aback for a moment because as far as he remembered, he had not mentioned anything about it to her or anyone else but then, he remembered that she had been his friend long before she had been his partner and that she probably knew a lot more than most people because she kept her eyes wide open. “It takes a bit more to scare me off, Ur,” he said as he raised an eyebrow at Fullbuster who was having a silent exchange with Dreyar.

“I suppose, it’s time to get going,” she said as she slid onto the seat behind Dreyar’s, tapping the man’s shoulder with her good arm before they started to have one of their conversations about nothing less important than the future of the world or whatever geniuses talked about when there was no one to stop them.

Indeed, it was time to get going. In the last row, Lyon was leaning against the window, napping and muttering about something no one could understand while Gray was staring at the landscape. Ur was reading in a file she should not possess and Fullbuster was staring at his phone with a grim expression on his face. Dreyar had his eyes closed but he was not asleep, he was meditating while he listened to what Ur was telling him, the frown on his face ever-growing so they either disagreed or they agreed on not being able to figure something out which annoyed the medical examiner.

The landscape changed quickly and about one hour after they had departed from Era, passed the outskirts of Crocus and finally, they left the road they had been on so far in favour for a barely recognisable street that led them up into the mountains. Gildarts rolled his eyes. He had a lot of respect for Priscilla Lund but she was someone who quite enjoyed to show off a bit and to make them all travel to her preferred winter residence was something she did not have to do but likely had done nonetheless because she had seen an advantage in it.

“Seriously?” Ur muttered as she shook her head, her cheeks tinted red with embarrassment. “It has been quite some time since I’ve been here … but she could have done worse.”

Compared to other houses in possession of her family, the mountain residence was indeed more on the humble side but the exclusive location and the view one had from it was certainly luxurious enough. In the many years Gildarts had been dragged to various places all over Fiore by Ur, he had seen many houses. He had been impressed by the one by the see and he had been left breathless by the mansion in Magnolia but there were just two places that had been uniquely _Lund_ instead of being marked as a typical rich people home. And those places were the mountain residence they were currently approaching and their home back in the high north, the first house Ur’s grandparents had had build after their marriage.

“Well, you are right,” Dreyar muttered as he crossed his arms, a sigh leaving his body. “She could have invited us to your tropical island … unless she sold it since the last time it was mentioned in a casual conversation.”

“Haven’t asked her,” the woman said with a shrug as she pressed her lips together, her face still red. “But she probably kept it … and if I’m not careful, she’ll send me there for recovery.”

Gildarts stopped the car as close to the entrance as possible and while they all got out, he scanned the area. There was the crimson convertible that belonged to Jacques Lund standing on the yard and right next to it, the black sports car that belonged Ur’s grandmother – two cars Gildarts’ pay check would never be able to afford and for a moment, his heart wept.

“Miss Lund,” the butler of the residence said as he opened the door and stepped outside, bowing his head at her. “The employees of the household are all happy that you are well.”

By now, Ur’s face seemed to radiate enough heat to fry bacon on her forehead. She had always hated it when her professional life and her private life met and she did certainly not like the idea she was treated like some kind of princess in front of her colleagues.

But she was nothing if not a good actress and so she smiled gently at the butler as she shook his hand. “It is good to be back here, Frederic,” she said and Gildarts had to commend her on the way she could tell the many butlers of her family apart. But then, Frederic had been her grandfather’s butler-slash-assistant for years.

“Mr Lund and Lady Priscilla are in the glass room,” the butler said as he mentioned towards the coat rack. “But if you wish to show your guests around at first, I can tell them that you’ll be there shortly, Miss Lund.”

She smiled warmly as she rested her hand on his shoulder, nodding slightly. “First of all, Frederic, don’t address me so formally, we know each other too well for this,” she said calmly as she looked into the general direction of the room where her grandparents were waiting. “And I don’t think I should let them keep waiting.”

The butler nodded before he disappeared in one of the many rooms and Ur straightened her shoulders before she marched down the hallway while Lyon clung to her bad arm. The poor little boy had yet to separate himself willingly from her for a longer period of time and it would likely take a while until he was over what had happened. Lyon had always been very fond of Ur and after Chres Vastia had died, Lyon had not only been devastated, he had also developed a certain dependency on Ur.

The glass room was exactly what it sounded like and at the table filled with food that looked very delicious, three people were sitting. As usual, Priscilla looked appeared to be a glimpse onto an Ur who was in her seventies. The lady of the house was a well-dressed woman with bright white hair and pale blue eyes. Next to her, her husband was laughing about something she had said and whatever it had been, it had been funny enough to make him cry with laughter. On the other side of the table, their son – Ur’s father – was sighing deeply.

The presence of the man was noteworthy because as long as Gildarts had known Ur and had been aware of the complicated situation in her family, her father had always avoided her as much as it had been possible. For him to willingly enter a situation where he had to deal with not just his daughter but also his mother was rare and also very odd.

“Father,” Ur said awkwardly as she gripped Lyon’s hand a bit tighter. She was panicking and Gildarts could not even blame her; she had never had the chance to be close to her father.

And then, Octavian Lund changed his usual behavioural pattern because rather than to address his daughter by her middle name the way he usually would, he allowed himself a tiny little smile and scratched his neck before he spoke. “It is good to see you well, Ur,” he said and although this line could hardly be less spectacular in itself, it meant that after nearly thirty years, the probably most stubborn man was seeing reason and this was wonderful.

“I do apologise for worrying you,” Ur said awkwardly as she mentioned towards Lyon, her teeth gritted and her posture rigid. “I am not sure if you heard about it but…”

“I did, no worries,” the man said as he mentioned towards the table. “But please, sit down. I promise I’ll try to behave perfectly today.”

The true problem was also the elephant in the room. Octavian Lund did not know his daughter. Everyone else in the room had a better understanding of her than he would ever have and this was something which was quite obvious. Ur would deny it to her last breath but there had been times in her life when she would have sold her soul to have a father in her life. To be forced to paste herself back together on her own ever since she had been a child because there had been no one else to do it had put a strain on her from day one.

“I had hoped,” Ur started and she nervously tapped her fingers against the cast, “that Jake would be here. I stood him up; I should at least apologise for that, you know?”

“Jacob is on the Medical Science Meeting in Iceberg as we speak,” the lady of the family said with a proud little smile on her lips. “Usually, I go but … I decided this was more important.”

For a woman born and raised in the high North, there had always been a certain warmth in this woman’s facial features – at least when she was having a good day. On a bad day, she was like the stormy sea – wild, unpredictable, intimidating. Right now, she was neither. She appeared to be a bit too smooth and as usual, Gildarts did not make the mistake of forgetting that she was a woman who had once freed herself from captivity by unknown means. Underestimating her might be very well the last thing someone ever did because while she was no agent, she had her own brand of power tickling in her fingertips.

“Cilla,” Jacques Lund said calmly as he rested a hand on her arm, a gesture that always felt like a kick into everyone’s stomach because they had been partners and lovers for decades and yet, he still treated her like she was the most precious thing in his whole world without ever degrading her to a possession, to a trophy. Together, they had crushed conventions and they had been named the Power Couple of Fiore more than once. And for the first time, Gildarts realised that it was probably not easy to be their son because they were setting impossible standards for everything one could achieve in life. Whether it was a prize that could be won or a relationship to be maintained, they had done it first and they were impossible to surpass.

“Oh yes, you should all eat,” the woman said as she mentioned towards the generous amount of food. “I made sure the food can be eaten with one hand after I heard your arm is broken.”

“Ah, yes,” Ur said as she sat down, her posture slowly relaxing as she eased into the situation. “Would it be possible that you take a look at it later on? The cast feels a bit awkward and I think that I may have done something to upset the bone again.”

“No worries, dear, we’ll look at it after the meal,”  the older man said with an affectionate smile before she turned to look at Fullbuster who looked rather uncomfortable. “Well, I do know Mr Clive and Mr Dreyar quite well so you have to be Mr Fullbuster. I think you attended the banquet with the others, correct? We didn’t get the chance to talk then … so let’s talk now.”

If Ur had looked embarrassed by her family beforehand, she was looking completely mortified now. And Gildarts could not even blame her. It was only a matter of time before her grandparents would break out the embarrassing nicknames Ur had collected over the course of nearly thirty years and while pumpkin could be considered cute under the right circumstances, there were others that would probably cause her head to explode when it would be used.

“Um, yes,” Fullbuster said before he bent over as if someone had kicked him under the table and as he glared into Ur’s direction, it was rather obvious who had done it. “We really didn’t talk during the banquet, I was a bit too busy trying out all the snacks.”

Gildarts wanted to slam his own head against the wall, repeatedly, because while it was always good to be honest, this was a bit too much. However, it appeared like Ur’s grandmother was not put off by the statement as she laughed before she poured champagne into two glasses, handing one to Fullbuster.

“I like you, Mr Fullbuster,” she declared as she balanced a piece of sushi onto Ur’s plate. “Really, I appreciate people who are blunt. Did you like the little hot dogs?”

“They were great,” Gildarts’ partner replied before they started to discuss the food of the banquet, leaving Ur utterly speechless for once. In Gildarts’ humble opinion, Ur and Fullbuster were slowly turning into some very predictable romantic comedy because it was rather obvious that there was some kind of chemistry between them and although the red-haired agent usually left matchmaking to other people – like Dreyar – he was very tempted to lock them into the storage room until they had finally admitted that they were very much attracted to each other. Ur was, of course, far better at concealing it than Fullbuster but while she had successfully fooled the object of her affection, she had not managed to deceive Gildarts who knew her too well to ignore that unless she genuinely cared about someone, she would never have opened up and she had undoubtedly been very honest with Gildarts’ partner.

“Ur,” Lyon said quietly, tugging on her sleeve before he mentioned towards the glass carafe of orange juice, “can I have some juice?”

And then, the disaster happened. Reaching for it, Ur’s hand collided with the coffee pot and before she could do anything, the hot liquid was spilled all over her good hand, causing her to yelp and flinch back. _“Ouch,”_ she hissed as she shook her arm rapidly, trying to fend off the burning sensation which caused her shirt to end up with more than just a few stains.

“Oh good god,” Ivan muttered as he finally decided to speak up after he had shrouded himself in mysterious silence for the past minutes before he looked at the lady of the house who seemed to be completely petrified. “Mrs Lund, I think Ur might require medical attention,” he said as he gently nudged the woman, prompting her to take action; she was a surgeon but she could certainly handle minor burns as well.

“No worries, I’m the expert for burns,” Jacques interrupted as he got up and rested a hand on his granddaughter’s shoulder. “We’ll sort this all out really quick, no worries.”

“This _hurts_ ,” Ur hissed as she slid off her seat, following her grandfather out of the room.

“Poor bean,” Octavian Lund muttered and was instantly met with the disapproving glare of his mother. “This was not meant to be offensive, mother. It was just what Urice used to call her.”

The elephant in the room was back and it had brought the entire herd with it. No one in Ur‘s family ever mentioned Ur’s mother. It was the golden rule because nearly everyone had a reason to feel somehow guilty about her death and was considerate enough towards Octavian not to mention the love of his life in his presence.

“Bean,” Dreyar repeated, a smirk on his face. “Actually, it’s quite popular with couples who are expecting their first child and don’t know the gender.”

“See, mother?” the tall man asked as he rose to his feet. “And now, please excuse me, I brought some work with me and I quite sure that you want the budgeting done until Monday.”

Gildarts did not quite get Ur’s father but he suspected that the very real possibility of losing his only child forever had softened the man up a little bit and had reminded him that when it came down to it, Ur was the only link he still had to his beloved wife and that his old bitterness was not worth losing this link over.

“Sweetheart,” Priscilla said but it was obvious that the word was not chosen out of affection but out of mere exasperation with her son. “You’re here to relax a little … you’ll work yourself to dead if you keep going like this. If you really want to go, please go for a walk. You always liked the lake … and if you go out, remember your scarf.”

The man rolled his eyes but with one last nod, he left and the atmosphere in the room became less tense as the elephants left with the man who had been bitter for so long.

“As you see,” the lady spoke as she crossed her arms and huffed, “being a parent never gets easier if your kid is a very stubborn man who really doesn’t know when it’s time to let go of old grudges before they can kill you.”

“Laxus is eight,” Dreyar said quietly, his lips forming a peaceful smile, “and I would say he’s just as stubborn as your son, Mrs Lund. I suppose your second son was very different, yes?”

“Yes, Augustus was … more at peace with himself,” she replied and for a moment, Gildarts mused how horrible it had to be for a parent to realise that there was nothing in the world that could heal the disease that had killed Ur’s uncle: cancer. Maybe it had been a helplessness similar to the one they had felt when Ur had been missing and they had not been able to find her anywhere for days.

“Ur got a new shirt and decided to take a moment for herself,” Jacques said as he slipped back into the room, a fond smile on his face. “I think she’ll go for a walk … well, the estate is one of the safest places in whole Fiore.”

Dreyar cleared his throat as he got up, bowing his head at the both elderly people. “I will follow her example, I’ve been stuck in the lab for too long lately,” he said and left. 

* * *

 

**chasing rubies chasing gold**

* * *

 

Ivan had made his fair share of experience with complicated familial situations and no matter how much he pitied Ur, he had seen far worse and when he excused himself, it was because he was not sure if he could stomach another debate with Priscilla Lund about medical topics within one year. The woman was as intense as her granddaughter and Ivan had long realised that it was sometimes easier to just get out of the way and allow Ur to do her thing when she was angry at something or someone.

This was why he preferred the company of calmer people whenever he had the change. His wife had a temper but she was usually so serene that he automatically felt at peace in her presence. It took a lot to make Roxanne to lose her composure and sometimes, Ivan wondered why she had chosen a relatively normal profession – she taught in elementary school – rather than to follow the path of higher education by becoming a professor, someone to guide the youth to the destiny they could fulfil.

(Thinking about her made Ivan usually think in a rather poetic manner.)

Outside the mansion, breathing was easier again and he was reminded of the horrible Christmas when his parents had fought and his mother had stormed off, taking the first assignment she had gotten her hands on and getting nearly killed in progress. He had hated his father, then. It had been first time he had realised that no matter what would happen, he never wanted to be like his father. He had been fifteen and in his second year of university.

No, Ivan had little love for the family he had been born into, for the people who had sacrificed his childhood happiness for their careers, never asking him if he was okay with all of it. Part of the reason why he had always studied so much had been because it had been the only way to get away from the yelling and the fights and the constant feeling of never being able to measure up to what was expected of him.

His father had wanted him to join the military but Ivan had never believed in war and he had always been far too smart to die for something he did not believe in. Perhaps Makarov would have been happier with a son like Silver, with someone who was tough and could win fights on strength alone and did not have to rely on his unusually huge brain to get out of the messes his too fast mouth had gotten him into. For his mother, it had never been a question that he would join her agency, that he would be a spy like she was one. However, for all her intelligence – and Ivan suspected that he had gotten his brilliance from his mother and not from his father – she had forgotten that Ivan did not like violence at all. For his mother, a son like Gildarts would have been the perfect choice because the man combined unconditional loyalty with mild moral ambiguity. Gildarts did not mind killing, he minded it even less than Ur or Silver did, this was the secret only Ivan had ever been aware of.

And just like no one in his family had ever gotten what they had wanted, Ivan had never had the sister he would have liked to have. He would have liked for Ur to be his younger sister because she was one of the few people who had always been able to understand him, who he did not mind having around when he was working because she knew better than to ask stupid questions. Together, they could have been an unstoppable duo and both their childhoods would have been not half as lonely as they had been. And it would allow him now to sit Fullbuster down and tell him that if he broke Ur’s heart, he would suffer a _horrible_ accident. Actually, since he had been friends with Ur for a quite some time, he probably still could do this.

But this would only be possible if they all survived this very awkward brunch. He could not blame Ur for running, the situation had been toxic for her. She had not expected her father to be there because for the past years, Octavian Lund had been even less of a decent father than Makarov Dreyar. Ivan remembered the Christmas – why did all the bad things always happen on Christmas – when Ur had arrived at headquarters, eyes red and unwilling to speak.

Maybe this was what they had truly bonded over while he had been stuck at work on a Christmas Eve because the work could not wait: how terrible their families were, no matter what pleasant face they showed the world. She had been silent, sitting on a counter in her party dress, her fingers laced together as she had hummed along to the songs in the radio. It had been quiet and peaceful, it had been the way Christmas was supposed to be and he had never commented on her general presence in his laboratory on Christmas when he had been working although he had been happy that her eyes had never been red again.

Sometimes, Ivan wondered why they had to be born into families. Life would be so much easier if it would be possible to choose them freely. He doubted that Ur would have picked hers if she had ever gotten the chance – all the love her grandparents had always had for her could hardly measure up to being more or less ignored by the own father for nearly thirty years. Clive, on the other hand, would pick his family again and again because he was truly content with it but then, his family was _normal_. Ivan did not know anything about Fullbuster, however, and he had better manners than to look into a colleague’s private file.

He inhaled, breathing in the cool and clear air of the mountains, his feet carrying him away from the mansion and towards the lake. He believed he knew why the Lund family had this winter residence – it was far enough away to escape the stress that was ever-present in their field of work and it allowed them to regain the serenity that was needed to create the spark of brilliance they surely needed for their inventions.

Maybe he should go and file a request for a break that actually deserved the name.

It had been far too long since he had last gotten the chance to just rest his mind and focus on the things in life that were truly important – like his family. He cared about his team and they were slowly becoming a part of his family but they were not the people he would want to go on a vacation with because he doubted their ability to leave their work personas behind because they had long become a part of them. And he doubted that it would be so amusing to be a on a vacation with Agent Clive when Doctor Dreyar stayed at home.

Turning a corner, he flinched back. Ur was standing by the side of the lake, her stance rigid and her lips moving quickly as she spoke into her phone and although Ivan was no one to listen into someone else’s private conversations, a few words caught his attention.

“…yes,” she was saying as she looked onto the wide body of water. “I considered the offer. I am just not so sure … if this is a good idea after all.”

And Ivan was angry. There was only one person who could render Ur into a state where she felt like she had to explain herself for everything she ever did. And this was his mother who obviously wanted her old agent back – and usually, she got whatever she wanted. And this was just not fair because Ur had made the decision to leave once and she would make it again. He would have to speak with the rest of the team about this once he got the chance to catch them alone because he knew that he had no way of stopping Ur from leaving. This might be different when it came to Clive or Fullbuster.

This was such a mess now and Ivan’s mood was ruined. He would have trusted his mother not to go ahead and try to steal away his friend from him but then, he should have known better than to blindly trust her. She was not just a spy, she was the _legendary_ spy. Part of the reason why his parents had fought that Christmas had been that his mother had received information about a project Makarov had had going on she was not supposed to have and when she had confronted him, the situation had escalated.

The point was, she did nothing without a very good reason and for her to abandon an out-of-country-operation that had surely taken weeks to plan for a little private rescue mission meant that she prioritised Ur’s health over whatever other objective she had had. And this was something she only did when it was an investment, one she would benefit from personally – and to have Ur indebted to her was certainly something she would gain profit from.

He turned around and walked away, choosing another path for his walk around the lake. He had to calm down, quickly, or he would call his mother and tell her in no uncertain terms what exactly he was thinking about her decision to fuel her old rivalry with Director Babasama by trying to snatch away an agent away again. Most of the time, he preferred his mother over his father but there were times when he felt like his mother was too much like him, that they shared too many less admirable traits. He did not want to have to be angry at his family all the time. He did not want to have to fight with them all the time about how they should keep certain things away from Laxus when he visited. It was one thing that Roxanne knew that her mother-in-law could order people to be crossed off at any point of time but did Laxus really need to know that his grandmother sometimes left the room to call her office to send off an agent to take out someone? The answer was no, Laxus did not need to know. He did not have to live with the burden of such knowledge, not the way Ivan had.

“You’re looking a bit angry, doc,” Fullbuster said as he appeared out of nowhere. “Did something happen? You look like you’re about to kill somebody, seriously.”

“First of all, why are you here?” the medical examiner asked, his lips pressed together. He had wanted to be alone and if Fullbuster was here, it meant that he no longer was alone.

“Clive and Ur’s grandpa went to the shooting range – because they have one in the cellar – to try out something new,” the specialist said with a shrug, “while Ur’s granny and the kids are playing some card game. I decided to follow your example and come outside. So, I answered your question, now you should answer mine.”

Ivan growled as he crossed his arms, continuing to walk. “Mommy dearest tries to get Ur back to NAHA,” he said with a scoff. “And that doesn’t make me a happy camper.”

“Is she even still capable of handling a job for NAHA?” Fullbuster asked as he rested his hands on the railing. “I mean – she hasn’t been given the order to cross someone off in years.”

But thankfully, the ability to put a bullet through someone’s brain was something that was less a matter of individual skill and more one of attitude – and this attitude was something that was inherent with good agents.

Ivan hated to be the one to crush the illusion that Ur was through and through a good person but someone had to do it and he was certainly the only one who could do it without calling her skill to make a man’s head explode with a single, well-placed bullet ‘splendid’ although in her best days, her skill with a sniper rifle had been surely noteworthy on an abstract level.

He sighed deeply as he looked into the distance, once more decided that after all of this, a vacation was in order. “Ur does not mind killing, not when the target is a dangerous criminal,” he said as he crossed his arms. “Crossing someone off? When they are on the list of the most dangerous criminals, she goes through this job like it’s a walk to the grocery store.”

And it had been exactly this attitude that had made her one of NAHA’s best when she had been still playing for their team. She had never lost any sleep over the violence, over the terrors she had seen during the day because it had been deeply ingrained in her head that she was doing it to make the world a place that was safe for those who could not defend themselves.

For her, it had been a burden she had been willed to shoulder so other people could sleep at night and did not have to fear for their safety.

“There’s one other problem with me going back to NAHA,” Ur said as she suddenly walked next to them, her arms crossed. “She did not ask me. She has asked Gildarts.”

It was weird to consider that Clive had indeed been an agent of NAHA and that it would make far more sense for Porlyusica Edel to ask him to come back because currently, he was in a very good physical state and he had always been cut out to be chasing after more than just a few small fishes. In his prime, he had taken out the scum of the earth without breaking into sweat. Where Ur had settled into the setting of daily police work quite nicely, it had taken her ex-partner a little longer to do the same – and even after years, he sometimes reminded Ivan of a lion in the cage, willing to get back out.

“You think he’s going to go?” Fullbuster asked as they stopped, forming a lose circle. This was a new situation, Ivan realised. This was one agent talking about his partner with said partner’s former partner. This was not a conversation between two agents who were – for some reason – attracted to each other talking.

“To be honest, I would want him to,” Ur admitted as she bit her lip. “Gildarts is a good agent for ECID but he was NAHA’s best – and from what I’ve heard, they could use someone like him. I’m actually pretty sure that he would want to go, too. There’s just, well, _Cornelia_.”

Ivan understood although he doubted that the same went for Fullbuster.

Agents of NAHA rarely managed to maintain a healthy relationship because nearly everything they did was secret and could only be relied to people with the right clearance level. If Clive would go back, he would never be allowed to tell his girlfriend anything about his daily work – and things like this were basically designed to put on hell of a strain on a relationship and as Clive was very serious about Cornelia Alberona, he would not want this.

“…if Clive leaves, I need a new partner,” Fullbuster muttered as he stared off into the distance before his face turned into a grin as he nudged Ur. “You’ll offer up, right?”

“Maybe,” she replied drily as she mentioned towards her broken arm. “It all depends on how this works out … if I am suddenly entirely useless, I won’t.”

“I’m pretty sure that once your grandma gets her hand on your arm, you’ll be fine pretty soon,” the man replied with yet another shrug before he poked her side. “On the other hand, if Clive stays, we probably shouldn’t tell him that we were working on a backup plan.”

“Probably, yes,” Ur said with a smirk as she quickly sidestepped him. “Mind telling me, Ivan, where you took the idea I might be leaving the team from, anyway?”

He should have known that she would ask about this and so he sighed deeply. “You know that I don’t listen to your conversations,” he said as he started to pace, circling around them. “But I overheard you on your phone a few minutes ago … and it seemed like something my mother would do, you know? Being helpful and then asking for a favour.”

She sighed deeply as she crossed her arms. “I’d prefer if you wouldn’t tell Gil about this,” she said as she lowered her voice, “but Jake asked me to help him with a few things. It means, of course, to work for the cooperation, something I refused to do for as long as I was an agent.”

“And Clive can’t know because he’ll think that your father only played nice today because he wants you to come aboard and this means he’ll cause trouble for you,” Fullbuster said as he raised an eyebrow. “What was that even about?”

“As much as it surprised me, he seemed to be completely honest,” the woman said as a frown appeared on her face. “Ivan? What did you think?”

“As much as it surprised me, he was sincere,” Ivan confirmed as he shrugged. “Anyway, we should get back before Clive spends his whole pay check on whatever fancy gun your grandpa has build this time around … Lund weaponry is a bit out of our pay grade.”

“Actually,” Ur said as her head turned crimson once again, “my grandparents wanted to offer all three of you – and Marvell and Neekis – a free trip through Candy land. You know, to thank you for saving me. It’s not exactly the _‘I offer you the hand of the princess and half of my kingdom’_ deal but it’s close enough.”

“Your family really got to love you,” Fullbuster pointed out in what was probably supposed to be a casual tone which failed miserably because he was not good at being casual.

“They spent two billions on my cousin when he was taken,” she said with a shrug as the red slowly faded from her face, “so I suppose they can afford to let five agents get all the equipment their hearts have ever desired.”

“True,” Fullbuster said with a shrug, “and it’s probably better than having to share you among the five of us … that would have gotten rather bloody.”

“Idiot,” she huffed as she flicked his forehead. “By the way, what would you guys have done if I had had plans on leaving the team permanently? I’m just curious.”

“Oh well, I’d probably have asked you out,” the specialist said with a mischievous grin. “I mean – it’s highly unprofessional to ask out a colleague but you wouldn’t have been one anymore.”

And the statement would have been perfectly sound and logical if it was not a well-known fact that among all the things Silver Fullbuster was, ‘professional’ did not appear on the list.

Ur seemed to have come to the same conclusion as she rolled her eyes and turned around, walking back to the house in silence. What was remarkable – although Fullbuster appeared to have missed it – that she had not commented in any shape or form, that she had not huffed and said ‘perhaps in your dreams’. This was the most interesting new development.


	15. xv.

**or it's hard to get through**

* * *

 

There was someone in his apartment when he came back from work and as he had not invited anyone over, he had to be dealing with an intruder. This was ridiculous. Who in his or her right mind was breaking into an agent’s apartment? Usually, this was the point when he should have called headquarters to report it but he decided that this was something he could handle this sort of situation.

He knew his apartment well so when he heard footsteps, he perched low before he struck. He had always been mostly unrivalled in terms of hand-to-hand combat. Ur had sometimes given him a hard time because she was faster and her endurance was inhuman (just like her ability to twist her body) – but in the end, he had usually won against her because he was stronger.

So technically, the lowlife that had broken into his apartment should go down within a moment. Emphasis on technically because whoever it was, he – and it was a man – easily matched Gildarts’ moves. This had not happened in quite some time, not since NAHA and the agent found himself oddly excited. He did enjoy a good fight and it had been a long time since he had had an excuse to get serious.

But before this could happen, there was a movement behind him and someone pulled him back. A sigh escaped the woman’s lips and then, she spoke. “Which part of ‘peaceful interaction’ was so hard to understand for you, Dragneel?” she snapped as she crossed her arms.

“He attacked me first,” the wild-looking man said as he crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “But it’s great to see that ECID didn’t make your reflexes disappear yet.”

So this was how NAHA wanted to play it, then. When Gildarts had been contacted with a very tempting offer regarding his return, he had known that if the director was serious about it, she would go and send old acquaintances after him that should convince him that coming back to the agency was the best idea in the world. It was unusual, however, that Director Edel had sent Emma Tempest and Igneel Dragneel after him because Emma had left NAHA before Ur had gotten the offer from ECID which had been extended to Gildarts and Dragneel had always been the last one anyone in their right mind would send onto a diplomatic assignment.

“How did you to get in here?” Gildarts asked as he massaged his temples. If he was a betting man, he would have guessed that Dragneel had merely kicked down whatever had been in their way but there was no way Emma would have allowed him to do such thing.

“I may not be my brother but believe me, the lock I can’t open hasn’t been constructed yet,” the woman said as she strolled into the living room, shaking off her coat in progress. Beneath, she was wearing some sort of tactical suit and this made no sense whatsoever because she had always been a scientist and never one to play the field as well – that had been her aforementioned brother and he had paid a high price for trying to be both.

“Talking of your brother,” Gildarts said as he slumped down on his couch, “how is he doing?”

“His fine motor skills are slowly coming back,” she said, her face bitter as always when the topic showed up. On the day when Joan had been killed, she had not been the only loss NAHA had had suffered. Emma and her brother, Liam, had been down in the laboratory when the base had been under attack. Emma had gotten away lucky – she had been behind bullet-proof glass. Her brother had been unfortunate enough. After he had been shot, he had passed out – his head in a water tank – and by the time Emma had gotten to him, he had suffered permanent damage, forcing him to retire.

“That’s good to hear, I suppose,” the ECID-agent said as he clapped his hands. “So lemme guess, you got an offer you couldn’t refuse, Tempest, that’s why you’re back.”

“It’s a bit more complicated,” she said after a moment. “It is … okay, look. My private lab is nice and fancy and all but – it got limits. Limits I have reached. I could spend money and effort into improving it or … I could go back to NAHA and finish what Liam and I started there.”

“So that’s how they got you to don the lion again,” Gildarts muttered as he narrowed his eyes at Dragneel who was smirking widely. “But I still don’t get who you wear the suit.”

“It’s a bit different, actually,” she said as she pushed her fingertips together, her eyes narrowed. “Director Edel wants to assemble an elite team.”

“And you’re invited to fill the part of the martial art expert,” Dragneel said with a yawn. “You know – if you’re still up to the challenge. We all know that ECID dulled you a bit.”

If he had expected Gildarts to take the bait, he ended up disappointed because the other man just shook his head. He knew what it was about, knew who they would be going after. A part of him was tempted, there was no denying. The idea of finally finding out who had been responsible for the death of Joan and so many other agents was tempting, even for Gildarts. He had never believed the official explanation, he had always thought that there had more to it because it had sounded a little too easy. He had believed – just like so many others – that someone from the inside had betrayed them. The base that had been broken in and taken down like it had been nothing had been a secret one – Science and Communication Department Base 4 – and there had not been many people outside of the agency who had been aware of its mere existence. And to take down a base like this, like it was a training simulation, it was usually necessary to have more than just basic knowledge of its structure.

However, while it tempted him to investigate the matter and to find out why so many good people had had to die, it would mean for him to go back to NAHA and this meant to leave ECID.

Short to say, Gildarts was not comfortable with the situation. He did not appreciate the idea of going behind his team’s back because how was he supposed to trust them when they could obvious not trust him. He would have been furious with whoever from his team had even considered to leave that way because this was cowardly. They were all playing for the same team and the entire team was valuable and it would be foolish to risk it for nothing aside from some petty revenge while everyone knew that revenge was never worth it.

He looked from Emma Tempest to Igneel Dragneel and sighed because this was such a bitter and difficult position for them as well. Emma had lost her brother during the attack and Gildarts would be the last one to claim that he could relate to the pain of knowing that although someone was still around, the part that had made them one of a kind was gone for good. Igneel was angry because he had always been furious about the matter, because he had been in the agency’s security council which had had the sole job of preventing disasters like this and for him, it had been personal failure to be helpless during the attack, locked into the security area where all the screens had shown nothing but death and destruction.

But what they had lost was something revenge could never bring back to them. They had lost their faith and even if they were to put a bullet through the brain of the one who had betrayed them, who had the blood of so many good people on their hands – it would not bring anything back. It would not revive Joan, it would not sped up Liam’s recovery and it would not bring back Igneel’s faith in his own abilities.

“You two are idiots,” he said as he shook his head. “Seriously, killing the one who is to blame for Liam’s state won’t miraculously cure you from your guilt. It might make it even worse.”

He knew that he would not sleep at night after this but this was a small sacrifice to make when he could keep an old friend safe. He had made mistakes – hell, he had been the one people had sent on an assignment when they had needed someone who could do the wrong thing for the right reason. He remembered sitting in the director’s office, remembered her telling him that she needed to keep him around because she could no longer be like him.

“I remind you that I’m a certified genius,” the woman replied, sounding more than just a little miffed. She had always taken pride in her intelligence because this had been what had made her irreplaceable. Her signature had been on ninety-five percent of anything biochemical that had been used within NAHA and it had been a difficult for her to leave the first time around and as far as Gildarts was informed, she had had to buy herself out of the contract she had had with the agency. To go back was probably the least brilliant thing she had ever done.

But maybe she was as trapped as he was, perhaps she was torn between what she considered to be her duty towards her brother and her own freedom. Gildarts knew what his choice would have been if Ur was the one who had ended up trapped in a body that no longer obeyed her on most days. This was why he could not blame Emma for making this decision; she had been rendered helpless and now, this assignment was offering her to get back some of her old control. But her choice could not be Gildarts’.

It was hard to come to this realisation but NAHA had been dead to him for a very long time and he likely would have left even if Ur had not dragged him off to ECID when she had received the offer to change agencies. He was not sure if he wanted to stay in Era, it was difficult for him to remain simply a law enforcement officer when he had been so much more once upon a time. He had been slipping lately, had been losing his grip on the both personas he kept strictly apart from each other and this was worrying because sometimes, he looked into the mirror and what he saw troubled him because he was not sure if it was the Agent Clive of ECID or the one of NAHA looking back at him. It was getting difficult to keep the others out of the picture in this matter, especially after he had nearly slipped up when they had gone out to rescue Ur from her kidnappers. It had begun to show that even all those years had failed to wash away who he had been once upon a time.

In another world, he could have been the leader he had been supposed to be, he could have led both Dragneel and Emma away from the path that would only hurt them but he was not the one they would listen to. They both knew that he had made too many promises he had failed to keep and they would not trust him.

“Look,” he said as he reached for the folders on his table, flipping through them without truly reading a single line. “I moved on from what happened. I met a woman I want to marry … and I feel it would be wrong to propose to her and then run off to avenge another.”

This was not the truth but it was a convenient excuse and sometimes, this was all that truly mattered – to have a good reason for doing something that was objectively wrong. He should help them, he should want to chase down the people who had ruined so much. But he did not want to because he was loyal to his team and not to any agency on the planet.

“My, for you to settle down … Ur got to be _elated_ that her days of babysitting you are ending,” Emma said as she cracked her knuckles, her lips pressed together. “But I guess this means that your no is going to stay a no … I can respect that, you have been through a lot.”

He knew that she was right and he also knew that she was about two seconds from looking past his defences and masks and straight at the truth he had been trying to cover up for so many years. ECID had been his second chance after he had failed – in his own opinion – at being a member of the national agency. He had always made the cut – his performance had been above average – but he had made crucial mistakes, had underestimated dangers. His claim that nothing ever happened at NAHA bases had been why Joan and Ur had been alone when the base had been under attack, why there had been nothing but despair waiting for them all at the end of the path.

“You will be pleased to hear that no matter how dysfunctional my relationship with her is, I did not make this decision to appease her,” he replied with a frown. He had gotten used to the babysitter jokes and frankly, he was happy that Emma had called Ur his babysitter rather than to claim that Fullbuster had taken over.

“Talking of her, how is she handling her new situation?” Dragneel asked as he snatched one of Gildarts’ chocolates off the tray. “I heard rumours that she’s moving out of her apartment.”

Then he had heard more than Gildarts but as the ECID agent had accepted, Ur’s way to cope was to ignore what had happened as much as it was possible and this meant to get rid of everything that reminded her of the time – and this certainly included her old apartment, especially after it had been proven that the security measures had to improve vastly as soon as humanly possible because a terrorist’s follower had walked right in.

**▬ ♥ ▬ ♦ ▬ ♣ ▬ ♠ ▬**

Gildarts was not quite sure what exactly possessed him to drive to the luxurious mansion where Liam Tempest was living his life – or what had been left of it – as an empty shell. Perhaps he needed to see it to understand why someone who had lost everyone once was willed to gamble with high stakes again. He had visited in the hospital, once, when the man had been still unconscious to remind himself that there was more than just one kind of death and that sometimes, not dying was so much harder than actually passing on.

It was still heartbreaking to see the man. In days of the past, Liam had been a man of impressive physique. Tall and athletic, he had always seemed to be wasted on the laboratories and so much better suited to be an agent for the field but he had been brilliant, just like his sister who had playfully called him Sparky because he had been on the receiving end of his element one too many times and had generally been electrically charged most of the time.

Poison and lightening, biochemistry and physics, Emma and Liam.

They had been a team and although they had been twins, they had never shown the sort of sibling rivalry that was both hilarious and exasperating to those who had to listen to it. They had never completed each others sentences but everyone had known that they _could_ do it.

Liam was sitting in his wheelchair, his hands folded in his lap and his eyes trained onto the dark sky. The scene nearly could have fooled into Gildarts into thinking that the man was calm and peaceful but this was hardly the case. More than ever before, this man was the embodiment of his last name. He was furious but trapped into his own body in a way that made it impossible for him to express this anger.

“Gildarts,” he said quietly, without turning his head. “It has been a while since we’ve seen each other … or since I saw anyone … even Emma can’t stand being around me lately.”

There was no accusation in his voice because Liam understand that for his sister, all of this was still the worst kind of torture. And it was something she could not get away from because she had once admitted that she still heard her brother’s voice when she was working. Emma was haunted by the memories of what had been and Gildarts pitied her because although he had heard of all the people who ever needed a person so desperately that they ceased to function once they were gone, he had never thought that the biochemist would be one of them because she had always seemed to be more independent from her brother than the other way around. It seemed, appearances could be very deceiving.

“She knows how you’re doing, though,” Gildarts replied as he sat down, pressing his fingers together. “If this makes you happy somehow.”

“It doesn’t,” the scientist said as he sighed deeply. “But I can’t blame her for no longer coming … the last time she did, I snapped at her … and I couldn’t explain why.”

“They did tell us all that the … incident screwed up your brain,” the agent said quietly as he remembered how Ur had stared at their superior, unwilling to believe even one single word that had just been said. Gildarts remembered because he had looked the same way, probably.

“It took me years of extensive therapy to relearn to maintain a conversation,” Liam said with a little shrug, his thumb rubbing the small part of the dragon tattoo that could be seen on his wrist. “Emma doesn’t know that I can talk again. It’s necessary for her to stay away … we aren’t good for each other at all lately. I get angry too easily and she is still holding out for a Liam who died five years ago.”

“I don’t think that she’d might this new you when it means that she gets her brother back,” Gildarts said as he tapped a small rhythm onto the table between them. “She wouldn’t care for you to be a mess … I mean, you always were her mess anyway.”

“I tore her apart when I ended up with three bullets in my back and my head underwater,” the man said quietly as he closed his eyes. “Did you know that the last thing I saw was her trying to leave the safe zone? And that the last thing I heard was her screaming?”

“If you tore her apart, maybe it’s your place to piece her back together as well,” Gildarts said with a shrug. He had always believed in cleaning up after himself and he knew that while it was sometimes difficult and always painful, it was worth it.

Liam was silent for a while and Gildarts realised something he probably should have thought about far earlier. Just like the Liam they had all known had died that day, the same had happened to the Emma he had known for as long as they had both lived. Gildarts remembered the time after Joan’s death, remembered being unable to drink tea because it had tasted like ashes in his mouth – and he had only known her for a short while compared to the lifetime Emma and Liam had been a team for. And just like Joan had left traces in Gildarts’ life, Emma and Liam had left paved avenues in each others’ existences.

“I can’t look at her without choking up,” the scientist admitted as he closed his eyes. “And that hurts the most, I suppose. That I cannot look at my own sister without feeling just as helpless as I did when the first bullet hit me.”

And although Gildarts never had had a sister or someone he had cared for the same way Liam had always cared for Emma, he understood because he usually felt similarly about Ur – only was she less likely to get herself into trouble like this. He could understand a feeling that made him feel that someone else’s safety and wellbeing was infinitely more important than his own – and he knew that Liam would know exactly what he was talking about.

But thankfully, Liam was a scientist, someone who loved facts – cold, hard, fixed – more than life itself and he had never been swayed by emotion. His decision to distance himself from his sister proved as much. Emma threw him back into a time when he could not speak, her presence was not good for him, that it was charged with too much past for either of them to carry.

“I suppose, you’ll have to learn to be her brother again,” Gildarts said quietly. “It will be dirty and it will be hard – lots of blood and guts – but … she wants to go after the people who put you into this state … and I don’t think this will end well for anyone.”

“…it’s going to be a disaster,” Liam muttered, his hand running through his messy blond hair. “And why hasn’t anyone told me about this yet? Grandine was supposed to keep me updated!”

“Grandine? As in Grandine Marvell?” Gildarts asked as his eyebrows rose.

For a moment, Liam was silent and then, he sighed. “You need to know that if you tell anyone about it – and yes, this includes Ur – you’ll probably have a not so nice visit from Metalicana and Igneel,” he said as he stared at his own hands. “Okay, we all – some people you know, others you don’t – all went to the same rich people private school. And we clicked. We all had a knack for something pretty unique and we went along just fine – aside from some rivalries.”

“All the people with the dragon tattoos, I assume, yes?” Gildarts asked as he realised that it did fail to really surprise or to shock him. He had been Dragneel’s and Redfox’ tattoos a million times during training and he had had a very embarrassing encounter with Grandine Marvell after she had been caught in a downpour and her white blouse had been nearly transparent, showing off the tattoo on her back. It had always been clear to him that there had to be some meaning to it – the tattoos had all been made by the same artist, this had been obvious from the style – but he had never asked because it had seemed too personal.

“Exactly,” Liam said as he rolled his eyes. “I’d say that all of us have rather odd names but our parents’ or Grandine’s have had enough common sense to prevent that … really, who in their right mind would decide that calling a child Weisslogia would be a good idea? Poor Weiss gets bullied all the time about this.”

Gildarts blinked twice before he sighed deeply. “You know what?” he asked as he got up. “Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise – I think that while you’re changed, you’re still Liam. It’s hard to explain, you know? But … your heart is still in the right place.”

“I suppose that Ur was right when she called you the biggest softie there is,” the blond man said with a shrug. “And maybe … maybe I’ll ask someone to talk Emma out of doing something extraordinarily stupid … I’d feel guilty if she got hurt again over me.”

* * *

**so you were never a saint**

* * *

 

Her patience was nearing its end as she crossed her arms over her chest, her foot tapping the ground in an irritated manner but whatever skill the man hitting on her had, it was surely not to take a goddamn hint. If her arm was not such a mess, she would long have added some emphasis to her polite statement that she wished to be left alone. Really, she did not envy single mothers who had to deal with this shit whenever they took their children to the park.

And she was so sick and tired by now. It made her want to get Lyon and leave but this was one of the last nice days within the year and they both needed some sunlight as it was healthy. She was stuck and she really wished that she could just flip the annoying man over her shoulder and get over with it because how dared he to hit on her without even knowing who she was? This was ridiculous.

She _loathed_ it when she was being hit on by men who did not interest her at all. It had been a constant problem in her life – and the only repellent for creeps seemed to be when she appeared to be taken. Maybe it was true that she was too polite, too unwilling to cause one hell of a scene as long as they kept their hands to themselves because making a scene would attract attention and she had always preferred to fly under the radar of national agencies.

But she wished that the man would get that she would not give him her number and that it was no cheap excuse of hers to say that she worked far too much to even consider a relationship at the moment – at least not with someone who would not understand the necessity of getting up and out of bed in the middle of night because of a case that had just opened up.

“There you are, Bambi.”

Aside from the time he had appeared with Ivan and Gildarts to rescue her, she had never been this happy to see Silver Fullbuster somewhere. It appeared that he had read the situation and had understood that she was not quite able to escape without causing one hell of a scene – which she usually would not mind but today, she was out with Lyon – and so he had decided to come to her rescue which appeared to slowly become a frequent occurrence which did not make her exactly happy.

“Silver,” she said as she turned her head, nodding at him before she tapped into the skill she had once used for undercover assignments and summoned something akin to a blush onto her face – this was high level acting. “Didn’t see you around here … how was work today?”

“Same old, same old,” he replied as his eyes briefly flickered over to the man who appeared to be shell-shocked. “I forgot that you’d said that you would take Lyon out today, sorry.”

The thing was that she had never told him about this because she had been feeling like the ceiling had come crashing down and so she had decided that she would take the walk to Lyon’s school, pick him up after his classes ended and take him to the playground in the park. She had been halfway there when she had realised that she had not just forgotten her book but also that with her arm broken, she could not play with Lyon which she usually had done because she had always felt a bit too young to sit on the bench with the mothers and discuss recipes.

(Maybe this was fate’s way of telling her that no matter what, she was not quite ready to be a mother yet and that she was better suited for the position of the cool aunt who bought awesome presents and did not mind getting her clothes dirty while crawling across a field.)

“Ah, yeah,” she said as she nodded at him, her smile turning more apologetic. “I must’ve forgotten about that earlier – I suppose you’re partly to blame for this.”

“Oh, c’mon,” he said as he suppressed the urge to laugh. “I’m pretty sure that you can take about thirty percent of the blame for a change, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Twenty-nine,” she replied with a grin before she turned at the man who had been hitting on her. “If you’d please excuse me, I suppose I’ve to rescue a certain brat from getting hurt.”

Lyon had indeed a skill for getting into trouble with children taller and stronger with him because he was smart and yet never found the right moment to back down and to shut up. It did not help at all that he came with a very strong sense of justice and always stood up for people who could not do it for themselves.

(Chres would have been very proud.)

“I wouldn’t have thought that you’d of all people would have problems with being harassed,” Silver said as they walked away, his hand resting on her shoulder which was the most proper way of showing affection considering that they were working together.

“Is this the not so subtle dig on my looks?” she asked with a huff as she crossed her arms over her chest, trying not to feel to offended at these words although she genuinely felt this way.

“Fishing for compliments, are we, Agent?” he asked back with a roll of his eyes. “We both know that you’re looking fine … it was more that I’d have thought that men knew better than to hit on a woman who could break their leg without breaking into sweat.”

“I would have broken his nose if he had touched me,” she said grimly as she crossed her arms. “Don’t get me wrong; I don’t mind physical contact … I just mind it when it’s uncalled for.”

“Which is exactly why I usually don’t touch people who don’t want to be touched – unless they are criminals,” he said as he shrugged, grabbing Gray by his collar in passing to lift him away from where he was fighting with a pink-haired boy. “I suppose that they don’t like the idea of me touching them … well, I don’t enjoy it either. Some of them really need to shower.”

She did not mean to laugh at his words but then, a chuckle did escape her. “I could bring a bucket full of water to the next occasion you have to arrest someone,” she said innocently as she whistled, attracting Lyon’s attention. “But I kinda fear that we would get into serious trouble with the higher ups if I did that – it might constitute as unnecessary cruelty.”

“You sound like you actually mind this,” he remarked and she shrugged. It was probably true that she had been in the business for a few years too many and yet, she did not have to say so because he probably knew what it was like to have been doing something for such a long time that it had become the most natural course of action.

“There was a time when everything that got the job done was fair game,” she said drily as she looked at Lyon who had appeared by her side, his cheeks red and his grin wide, happy. “Had a good time?” she asked as she reached out, smoothing down his messy hair.

“Yes,” he beamed as he tugged on her arm, his grin nearly tearing apart her face. “Can we go somewhere else now? I want to do something exciting!”

“You always want to do something exciting,” she said with a sigh as she rolled her eyes. “But I suppose that we could go to the ice rink if you’d like to.”

“You spoil him way too much,” Silver said with a scoff. “Isn’t he supposed to do homework or something equally boring but productive?”

“I’m done already with that,” the boy said as his face betrayed his pride. “But yes, let’s go ice skating. I’m sure that we’ll have tons of fun doing that!”

Maybe she liked the way Lyon was so easy to be convinced of an idea but then, it was not like they could go home because in the morning, Ur’s grandmother had waltzed in to announce that Ur would move. To be honest, the woman had seen this coming and she had been looking into new houses and apartments herself because her security measures had _failed_ her. And she had even been happy to realise what if her grandmother was handling the problem meant that she would get a very pretty and especially a safe apartment somewhere in the best part of town and although she had never liked living among people who had more money than her average co-worker, it was something she was willed to accept if it kept Lyon safe.

There was no denying it, she was a bit of a softie when it came to children because it was not their place to be involved in the strife adults had among each other.

“Yes, let’s go,” Ur said as she grinned widely at her co-worker who looked grimly at her. “I suppose you wouldn’t want to come with us, Silver?”

“You might continue to attract people of questionable intentions,” he replied as he rolled his eyes at her. “And after what happened a while ago, I suppose I am obligated to make sure that you’re staying safe … to have to search the whole town for you again would be awfully taxing.”

“My, you really know how to charm a girl,” she replied as she reached into her handbag and fumbled out a handkerchief she used to remove the remains of chocolate from Lyon’s face. It was probably the most mother-like thing she had done in her entire lifetime and she decided not to think about it too much because she was – as she had realised many times before – hardly mother material. Mothers did not get into trouble half as much as she did.

“Your sarcasm is appreciated,” he replied as he nodded at his son. “Are you excited to go ice skating, Gray? Back in the days, I used to play ice hockey – not soccer like you.”

“I suppose that answers the question why you’re willed to go to the rink,” she said drily.

The ice rink had been her second home when she had been a little child and she supposed that her immunity towards the cold came from spending countless hours on the rink. She had never been able to get into ballet, maybe because she had known that this had been her mother’s form of art and she had never wanted to be in the shadow of someone else. Figure skating had been hers but she had lacked the dedication to it, the devotion she would have needed if she had ever wanted to make it her profession – becoming an architect had seemed so much easier, so much better at the time.

Pushing her hair behind her ears, she waved at the old woman behind the counter as she approached, mentioning towards Lyon who was bouncing by her side. “The brat wants to give it a spin,” she said as she felt the familiar burn in her own feet before she reminded herself that it was not wise to go out onto the ice while her arm was still broken – no matter how tempting it was to show off a tiny little bit in front of Lyon and Silver, just to remind them that as soon as it was sport-related, she could do it.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” the old woman said as she busied herself with Lyon’s feet, trying to figure out which size he should be wearing. “You haven’t come by in quite a few years.”

Ur sighed as she leaned against the corner, her fingertips tracing the material the ice skates in front of her were made of. Oh, she remembered. She remembered very well. “I kept busy,” she said with a shrug as she mentioned towards the rink. “How’s business going?”

“Ah, same old, same old,” the woman said with a shrug as she pulled two pair of skates out of the shelf and a slight sensation of dread grew inside of Ur. “You are going out, aren’t you?”

“I actually did not plan to,” the black-haired agent said as she scratched her neck. “Messed up my arm and it would really suck to ruin it completely … but then…”

Her muscles had complained when she had been forced to drop her usual training. First it had been when she had been chained to the wall and the pain in her arm had been overwhelming. Then, when she had been first in hospital and then under strict supervision. Well, she doubted that Silver would have the nerve to tell her that she should not skate.

So it was time to be a tiny little bit irresponsible.

It was troublesome to get into the skates with one hand virtually useless but with the help of the old lady, the task was completed soon enough and it felt a bit like coming home to a self she had abandoned a long time ago because it had not made the cut in a world that was not just fast but also very dangerous. Maybe she had missed this more than she would ever admit.

“So you’re joining us,” Silver said as he pushed himself away from the railing, moving backwards on the ice like it was nothing to him. “How nice of you.”

She rolled her eyes as she held her good hand out to Lyon as they both stepped onto the ice. “You’ll see that I am pretty good at this,” she said as she moved smoothly over the flat surface, dragging Lyon along for a while before he let go of her hand to try it on his own. “C’mon, Gray,” she encouraged as she crossed her arms over her chest, hands touching her shoulders as she spun quickly before she continued her path.

It was the most relaxed she had felt in a while. It was fun to teach Lyon some of the easier figures and it was adorable to watch how Gray struggled to stay on his feet while Silver circled around him, trying very hard not to laugh at it although it looked hilarious.

“Do you need help, Gray?” she asked as she skated over, one eye on Lyon who was trying to figure out backwards skating on his own – just as stubborn as his father had been.

The black-haired boy looked up at her, his lips forming a pout and then, he nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “That’d be nice … Miss Lund,” he added in an attempt to rebel.

“Listen here, you little runt,” she said as she held out her good hand to him, “call me Miss Lund one more time and I’ll abandon you on the middle of the ice and won’t let anyone come close enough to get you back to the solid ground.”

* * *

**dancing in the dark in the pale moonlight**

* * *

 

It was impressive to watch Ur on the ice because this was undoubtedly her element. When he had still been playing hockey, he had sometimes arrived for training a bit earlier to watch the girls from the figure skating group of his club because they had been the prettiest around and although he was hardly an expert, he could recognise someone who knew what she was doing quite easily – and she had to have some mad skill because her right arm was still in a cast and probably hurt when she moved it too quickly.

“Be careful with your arm,” he warned as he moved past her before he made a quick turn, chasing a hockey puck that was not even there. He had missed being out on the ice more than he would have thought but then, this was probably just natural – it had been one of the few things on his youth he had ever been passionate about because he had been extremely talented – talented enough for his coach to call it a waste of a damn good hockey player when he had left to join the army.

“No worries, I got this,” she replied as she looked over her shoulder before she left Gray to his own devices – some things had to be figured out and could not be taught – to chase after him, her movements sure and powerful as she had done this quite a few times before. “So, you played hockey when you were younger?”

“Edelweiß Racoons, yeah,” he said as he threw up his arms. “I know, I know – but I didn’t pick out the name. They were just the best team in the whole area and I got into their team.”

“I watched some of their matches,” she said with a shrug as she moved backwards over the ice, a grin still on her lips. “Grandma sponsored them when they played national league.”

“Got to be nice to have the money to sponsor a whole sports team,” Silver said with a shrug as he looked over his shoulder to check up on the kids – he was not entirely irresponsible after all although he had basically breathed the life on the ice rink as a kid and a teenager so that he could not really relate to the way they struggled to stay on their feet.

“Jake was a big fan and when they had monetary problems, he was willed to sell his soul to our grandparents if only they saved his team,” she said with a fond smile as she twirled, her smirk widening. “They didn’t take his soul, no worries, but he spent the holidays working with gran in her lab … I suppose that’s where he realised that he wants to go into this field.”

“Your grandparents appear to be pretty decent people … considering how much money they made along the years,” he said drily as he mused if this was a proper topic to discuss.

“The thing is that they really made all of this money,” she said as she shrugged, moving over the ice like she was flying because this was her scene. “They worked hard for this, made the necessary sacrifices … and believe me, it wasn’t always easy for them.”

A noise from the side of the rink interrupted their conversation and Silver turned his head. The newcomer on the ice was a tall woman with red hair – that had obviously been dyed because nature would never have allowed such an atrocious colour – and dark eyes. She was dressed in some sort of green jumpsuit and her movements were sharp, lacking any sort of natural flow or grace. Even the old keeper from Silver’s team had moved with more elegance than this woman but then, this was really not difficult because she acted like the ice was her archenemy. It was pathetic to watch.

“Oh god, no,” Ur muttered as she stopped by his side, eyes narrowed. “She can’t be serious.”

“You know her?” Silver asked as he raised his eyebrow and turned to look at her.

“I do indeed and I’m not particularly thrilled about what will follow,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Cecilie Lund is … well, my uncle’s daughter.”

“Which would technically make her your cousin,” Silver said as he smirked, “but let me guess, you’d rather drink bleach than to acknowledge this … logical aspect.”

“You guessed right,” she said as she left his side to twirl over the ice to approach the other woman. “Wouldn’t have guessed to ever see you here again, Cecilie, really.”

“Oh, I am actually surprised that you still have the nerve to come out on the ice after you threw away what could have been your career in favour for being a pathetic little paper pusher,” the other woman said with a bored drawl in her voice and dangerously gleaming eyes. There was some sense of challenge in the air and it was obviously something they would settle here and now because it had been overdue.

“I quit because I couldn’t do it to myself any longer,” Ur said with a scoff. “You know – your form was always horrible, Cecilie, it hurt my aesthetic sense.”

“You wanna go?” her cousin hissed like she was some kind of snake and Silver hated snakes.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Silver would never have guessed that figure skating could be this aggressive but then, he had never been witness of a competition between two women who had been rivals since the day the younger one had been born. From the mere artistic aspect, it was impossible to say who between them was better but as Silver was biased, he would go with Ur because her movements were full of power and there was an aspect of untamed passion in her skating while the other woman moved like she had copied all her instructions straight from the book – and it was impossible for her to create the same spark that came so easy for Ur.

Their paths crossed on the middle of the field and they sneered at each other before they spun away, still mirroring each other’s performance which added to the eeriness of the entire scene. Neither of them was willed to take any risks, to do more than the necessities.

“Oh dear, Ursea,” the woman called Cecilie taunted as she jumped, spinning twice in midair before returning to the ice. “You’re still as sloppy a skater as you were when we were kids.”

“My forms were good,” Ur snapped back as she effortlessly continued her own performance, adding a sharper edge to it. “Better than your character, at least. You slept with judges.”

“And your fiancé, dear,” the redhead added with a broad grin before she raised an eyebrow. “He didn’t tell you, did he? At least I’m entirely honest about those things.”

“Doesn’t surprise me, actually,” Ur replied as she did this spin that was performed while nearly sitting on the ice. “I never expected either of you to have much of a taste.”

She spoke calmly and acted as if she was entirely fine but Silver knew her too well by now. She was talking too much to be genuinely alright. Her arm was acting up and she was in pain and to mask it, to cover it up, she kept rambling on and on. But she would never admit this on her own and so he sighed as he pushed himself off the railing and skated over to her, deciding that he would be the rational one between them for a change.

“Sorry to interrupt your little battle,” he said as he frowned at them both because it was childish of them to risk life and limb over some silly rivalry. “But I was wondering if we could discuss the case you wanted to work on during your official absence from the field?”

He was just being helpful without making it sound like he was saving her from this mess because they both knew that she did not need to be saved by anyone.

“Oh,” the woman who went by the name of Cecilie smirked as she stopped in front of him, her grin lewd in a way that was utterly repulsive. “A law enforcement officer, then? Even one who can move well on the ice … the wonders never cease, I suppose.”

“He is my colleague, Cecilie, don’t go hitting on him,” Ur scoffed with a sharp glare that seemed to contain more than just the appropriate amount of annoyance. “It is highly uncalled for, too. And you should do something about your preference for men in uniform, it’s _ridiculous_.”

“I never quite understood how you could handle being around good-looking men in uniform all the time … but then, the nickname ice queen was always highly fitting,” Cecilie crooned as she crossed her arms over her ample bosom, her dark eyes flickering over Ur in a manner that was unsettling. “Or wait, no matter how much of a goodie two shoes _you_ are, you always had this oddest preference for people who are your exact opposite, correct?”

“You are tempting me to break your nose,” Ur replied, her voice calm and her face pale as she stood there, entirely unfazed. Usual people would have started to unravel, would have started to defend themselves – they would not just listen and raise an eyebrow from time to time.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, right?” the redhead smirked as she turned her attention back towards Silver. “Listen here, handsome, since you’re stuck with the bore called my cousin who hasn’t any idea whatsoever how to have fun, you should really give me a call.”

Ur’s face was as red as the ink she used to make snide remarks on reports that were not up to her standards and for a moment, Silver nearly wanted to know what had happened between the both women that made them hate each other so much. But then, he did not really care about the newest episode of Lund Family Drama because as a person, Cecilie was the human equivalent to mathematics and everyone knew that math sucked.

“Thanks for the offer but I suppose that it wouldn’t be worth to upset someone with the admirable skill of killing a person in three hundred different ways,” he said awkwardly as he shrugged. “So don’t take it personal but I’m taking my chances with the bore.”

If Ur had been crimson in the face before, she had now gone back to smirking smugly, for some reason extraordinarily pleased with his statement which was probably positive for him because even though she had not left the team (and the agency), there might still be a time when asking her out would not be completely unprofessional – not that the majority of his thoughts regarding her were appropriate.

“One day, I’m going to figure out how you manage to get everyone to be so damn loyal to you,” the cousin hissed – resembling a snake more and more which did not make her more attractive to Silver because snakes were the one thing on the planet he feared in an irrational way.

“It might be connected to letting people know that I’d rather take a bullet to the heart than to let anyone oppress them or take their rights away,” Ur said with a sharpness Silver had long grown accustomed to because it was a recurring event. “To say it with the words of a philosopher I know even you respect: _I do not agree with what you have to say, but I’ll defend to the death your right to say it_. Or as I’d put it – let idiots show the world how stupid they are.”

Silver could get on board with the second philosophy but he had also noticed that the fight had gotten considerably louder by now and the both kids were staring already and this might led them to ask questions no one wanted to answer because they were a bit too young.

“Such a pretty little line,” Cecilie snapped as she flipped her hair back in a way that was probably supposed to be seductive, “but you can’t deny your true personality, Ursea. You’re a quitter by nature … you never see anything through to the end … that’s your biggest weakness.”

“All those years and that’s still the best you can come up with?” Ur scoffed as she grabbed Silver’s wrist and started to drag him away. “That’s why fighting with you was never worth my time, Cecilie. Rather than to fight with you, I’ll go bake cookies. See you around.”

* * *

**welcome to my silly life**

* * *

 

Ivan was carrying what Roxanne had called a housewarming gift, completely ignoring his claims that there was literally nothing Ur needed to be given as a present because aside from a love life that was no disaster, she had everything she could possibly want to have. But there was no use in arguing with his wife when she had made up her mind – and in her opinion, he needed to socialise more. When he had reminded her that he had worked day and night on tracking down Ur mere days before, she had scoffed and had said ‘I meant – outside of work’ before she had pushed him out into the cold. Sometimes, he really wondered how he had ever believed that Roxanne was kind and soft-spoken when she had always been a quick-witted, bright-eyed woman who had never been afraid to point out his flaws and to work with him on the things about him that were a little problematic.

While Ur’s last home had been in the better part of town, she had now relocated herself to the best part of time – or better said, she had not argued with the people who had said that she should move. Ivan recognised the house as one the North Cooperation had bought years ago and he was nearly sure that among the more notable inhabitants, the name of Jacob Lund had been named quite a few times although the man had long moved on to Crocus. It was out of question that the security in this house would be top-notch because it was literally the reason why Ur had abandoned her old apartment which had had the advantage of being entirely unconnected to her grandparents’ shadow.

He nodded at the man at the reception and called the elevator, balancing the present in his grip as he pushed the button. Ur had indeed moved into the penthouse apartment which, in itself, meant that she was willed to finally accept her legacy as the granddaughter of the probably richest couple in the country.

He rung the bell and moments later, Lyon opened the door, his face smeared with chocolate and bouncing up and down – obviously on some kind of sugar high. “Good evening, Lyon,” he greeted as he smiled down at the boy. “I suppose that Ur is in, yes?”

“Kitchen, Ivan,” the woman’s voice rung out from the depths of the apartment. “Currently trying to figure out where on earth Jake put my knives and I swear that if—”

Whatever miserable fate she had wanted to bring over her cousin, Ivan would never know because she was rudely interrupted by another familiar voice – the one belonging to one Silver Fullbuster which instantly made the medical examiner wonder why the man was here.

“Found them,” the field agent said as Ivan followed their voices through the maze of furniture that had still to be arranged towards the kitchen which was the kind of high-end luxury thing he had expected because everything else would not have fit into the style of the apartment.

“Unofficial housewarming party, Ur?” Ivan asked as he approached her, placing the present on the counter behind her before he briefly hugged her. “Roxy wanted to bring it over by herself but Laxus caught a cold and in some situations, it has to be mommy or no one.”

“Poor you, really,” she said as she ruffled his hair before she mentioned towards the present. “But really, this wasn’t necessary. I have all I need – given that I can find it.”

“I told Roxanne that you don’t need any presents because you are the most spoiled non-brat the world has ever seen,” Ivan said with a grin as he helped himself to some wine. As usual, the wine was good but did not seem like she was drinking any which meant that she was on some kind of pain medication at the moment.

“Like I said, I need to find the things, too,” she said as she hopefully opened a cupboard and huffed before she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I’ll murder Jake – one of you might have to give me one hell of an alibi for that, yes?”

“Located your gin and your alcohol in general,” Fullbuster said with a broad grin as he leaned against a counter, twirling red wine in his glass, tilting it into her direction. “Impressive collection of whiskey, by the way. You wouldn’t mind me drinking some of it, would you?”

“As long as you stay away from my gin, you can drink it all,” she said as she brushed back a strand of her hair. “And I wouldn’t get too drunk, it’s an early day for all of us tomorrow.”

“I am shocked that you think that it is possible that I would take advantage of your generosity by drinking all of your alcohol, really,” the man replied as he smirked at her. “Though, seriously, if you don’t want us to drink your stuff, just say it. I’m _very_ sure I’ve some stuff at home I could get … given that Gray and Lyon will probably be playing their game until they pass out.”

“It’s not like I can actually drink any alcohol at the moment,” she said as she opened a cupboard door and set down two glasses before she took the bottle of whiskey from him and poured it into the glasses before she handed one to Ivan. “Tried to call Gildart earlier,” she said as she frowned, “but he didn’t pick up his goddamn phone.”

“You do realise that he isn’t obligated in any shape or form to jump at your beck and call, right?” Fullbuster asked as he took a sip of his drink, closing his eyes at the taste that was probably delicious. “That’s some really good whiskey you got there, by the way. Don’t call him over, it’s bad enough I have to share with Dreyar.”

“I know that he isn’t my servant or something,” she scoffed as she massaged her temples, slumping down on the nearest chair. “But for him not to answer any calls – my calls – that hasn’t happened in years now. And the last time it happened was when he drove home to visit his mother after Joan had died.”

Ivan knew these stories, of course. It had been long before he had even considered that maybe, it would be possible for him to steal away two of his mother’s favourite agents for ECID but even then, he had followed the events in the agency his mother loved more than anything or anyone else. And he remembered the dread he had felt when his mother had visited him the day after her base had been invaded, after her agents had been slaughtered. Joan Thomson had been one loss among many but it was the name that had become the symbol for the day because it was the one Ur and Clive both brought up in the rare case that they talked about the day that had changed their lives forever. Ivan had not known the agent but according to what he had heard about her, she had been a good person – and everyone knew that the good people were the first ones to die.

(A theory proven by the death of Chres Vastia.)

“You worry,” Ivan said quietly as he twirled the whiskey in his glass, eyes trained on the swirl of amber in the crystal glass. “Feels like the first time you actually admit it. It’s _progress_.”

“I always worry,” she snapped as she drummed a nervous rhythm onto the marble counter. “I just prefer it when I don’t have to state the obvious all the time, _really_.”

It was easy to forget that trust within their team usually went in both ways and that when someone had proven to be a reliable friend, Ur would take a bullet for this someone any day. And only Ivan and Clive knew about the bullets she had taken for friends in the past – and the bullets others had taken for her in the past – because she did not like to talk about this and it was nothing someone else had to necessarily know.

“It’s because of my mother’s involvement, yes?” Ivan asked as he raised an eyebrow. She would probably deny this to avoid accidentally offending him but she had to acknowledge that he was likely the last person to ever deny that his mother had a tendency to cause trouble wherever she went because she spelled out trouble in more than just one way.

“It’s mostly about the people your mother got involved,” she said with a sigh as she ran her thumb over her glass, her eyes darker than usual. “Emma Tempest … I don’t think I want to know what your mother promised her … the last time we talked, she was so clear on never wanting to go back to NAHA – and god, who can blame her?”

“You think mother is trying to make Clive guilty so he wants to come back?” Ivan asked as he sighed deeply. He wished that he could say that no, his mother would never do such a thing but no one managed to be director of an agency like the National Anti Hazard Agency without having a certain amount of inherent ruthlessness.

“Well, thankfully for us all, Clive is loyal and I doubt he takes kindly to emotional blackmail,” Fullbuster said as he threw an ice cube into his drink before he looked up and raised an eyebrow. “God, people, you look at me like you have completely forgotten that this oaf calls himself my partner,” the agent huffed before he rolled his eyes, perhaps more offended than it seemed at first. “He’s an idiot but not _that_ much of an idiot … I would hope.”

The dynamic inside their team was a disaster and Ivan was the last person to deny this because he was probably the only one who noticed it in its full extend.

The easiest relationship to understand was the one that carried the heaviest bond and had the longest history. Clive and Ur had gone to school together back in their youth and they had been partners at two agencies – not just because they had wanted to be a team but because their superiors had acknowledged that it was a good idea until it had become their curse, the chain they had been bound by. They would take bullets for each other and this went without saying because as long as it was never said, it was not tangible, not real.

Ivan also understood the bond he shared with Ur because they were both rational people who liked to put labels onto everything. She was his compass, the sister he never had but always had needed. She was someone who would never let him get away with something especially stupid and he would never let her do something that would make her hurt – which made him wonder why he had ever let her talk to Bane Milkovich. Oh right, because she was her own person and sometimes, he had to let go of her.

The partnership between Clive and Fullbuster was nearly ridiculously easy to summarise. They had been thrown together by their superiors who had probably wanted to see how long the newcomer would last as the partner of Clive after Ur – a man who had not been easy to deal with because he had been torn between two misplaced emotions: guilt and anger. No one had expected Fullbuster to last more than a few days but for some reason, it had worked out. The two men were still a disaster in the making but it had gotten a little better.

Ivan also liked to think that Fullbuster was his friend. They were not on first name basis yet because he was no social butterfly like Ur who was on first name basis with nearly everyone but maybe, there would be a day when they would get there. Fullbuster did not necessarily mind it when Ivan rambled on and on about a topic and he was sometimes rather funny and made sarcastic comments Ivan could laugh about which was definitively a plus.

Ivan did not think that he would ever be friends with Clive, however, because while they were all a little broken, the martial arts expert was broken in a way that was rather different from everyone else’s. He was broken because he had never allowed himself to remember that he could not always carry the weight of the world, the he could not save everyone. In a way, this applied to Fullbuster as well – this man had just stopped to care – but Gildarts Clive was different, he still cared far too much and Ivan knew that he would never be able to fix him.

This left the two Ivan could not summarise so easily. There was some sort of attraction, of chemistry between Fullbuster and Ur but they both handled it with the professionalism that could be expected from two adults in high-ranking positions within a national agency. Maybe there would be a time for them to be more than just colleagues but at the moment, the timing was just not right – and it appeared that they were both aware of this and that this was why neither of them had made a move so far – there was too much at stakes.

Right now, Ur was looking at Fullbuster, studying his face like he was a riddle she could not quite solve which was perhaps the most fitting description for them at the moment. “I suppose you are right,” she said as she cracked her left hand’s little finger and shrugged. “I really hope you’re right … because it’s one thing when he willingly goes back to NAHA, it’s a whole different story when he ends up tricked into a return.”

“When he really behaves like that much of a moron,” Fullbuster started as he downed his drink, “you’ll have to talk some sense into him … and by talking, I mean slapping.”

“This sounds like a good idea, actually,” she replied with a smirk as she clinked her glass against his and glared at her cast. “I swear, the day I get rid of this cast and it stops hurting, I’ll probably end up drinking a glass too many.”

“Soldier on, brave one,” Fullbuster said as he poured himself a second glass of whiskey. “Actually, you just can’t mix your pain medication with alcohol so if you acted responsible with your arm, you could drink without having to fear that your skin will turn blue or something.”

“This arm has it out for me,” she scoffed as she glared at her glass of water. “I can’t do anything without it hurting like someone is stabbing knives right through. I also doubt that my skin would turn blue, I think it would mess with my head … and as someone who has been there, I’d rather not tempt my luck.”

“I’m pretty sure that you could pull it off, though,” Fullbuster smirked as he moved to the door and checked whether or not the children were still alive. “Do you think it was smart to tell them that they could watch TV?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow. “I mean, I know that Gray can handle it … but Lyon…”

“Remember when you stayed overnight and the painkillers knocked me out while I was watching TV?” she asked as she raised an eyebrow. “I woke up to Lyon sitting by my feet, watching an action movie. I sent him off to bed and he had nightmares afterwards but I suppose that he learned his lesson.”

“I don’t see you winning any mother medals anytime soon, really,” Ivan sighed as he shook his head, “but then – you were never after them in the first place, were you?”


	16. xvi.

**with honest words**

* * *

 

They were throwing ideas back and forth while they were eating the pizza Ur had brought when she had arrived at the office in the early afternoon, declaring that while her own apartment was bigger and had more room for her to pace around, she could not relax there either because she was too keen on getting back into business because she had been out of the field for a few days too many. Not that Gildarts could actually blame her, it was annoying to be the only one who was left out of the loop while everyone else was having cases to think about.

“…just think about it,” Fullbuster said as he reached for another slice of pizza, “all of these robberies are flawless. There are no mistakes, they know exactly how to handle it…”

“You’re thinking that it’s an inside job,” Ur said as she leaned over the table to get to her glass. “Well, it would explain a lot … but there are still two options…”

“Either someone working in law enforcement or someone who’s working for the bank, yes,” the black-haired man said as he shrugged, looking at the others. “It’s just an idea, though.”

“I suppose they are both thinking that you started to think like a real agent,” the woman said with a smirk as she pushed the pizza box into his direction. “Eat more, it makes you smart.”

“As happy as I’m with Fullbuster having a good point here, I would like to get some of this pizza too, Ur,” Gildarts complained as he poked her side. “Also, aren’t you supposed to rest up another week or something like this?”

She rolled her eyes as she shook of her shoes and shifted her position on the couch in a lounging one. “I’m still on my sick leave,” she said as she sighed, “but aside from eating breakfast with my grandfather earlier today, I had nothing on my schedule today.”

“How was breakfast?” Dreyar asked quietly as he looked up from the blueprints.

“When I left, I thought I’d never be hungry again so it was great,” she replied, eyes gleaming. “We should consider going there together some day … maybe Christmas morning?”

“There is this tiny problem that whatever restaurant you went to is happens to be out of my pay check’s league,” Gildarts said drily as he shuffled through a stack of photographs. “Plus, Christmas morning is the date for our traditional pancake eating at your place.”

“Actually, since the restaurant is my father’s newest plaything, we would eat there for free and I’d suppose that we can alter our traditions a bit from time to time,” she replied as she pouted at him. It was interesting to hear how casually she had referred to her father because it meant that their relationship had improved.

“This doesn’t sound too bad,” Dreyar said as he shrugged. “With kids and significant others?”

“I don’t mind you bringing your wives, fiancées and girlfriends,” Ur said and only someone who knew her very well would have noticed the tiny hesitation in her voice before the last word.

“Well, I wouldn’t mind you bringing a boyfriend, either,” Dreyar said as he nodded ever so slightly at her because he had obviously caught her brief pause as well. “Maybe we should hold a casting … that might be funny.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said with a huff as she glared at him with more anger than Gildarts would have expected as the medical examiner was just teasing her a little. “I can get dates of my own, just for your information. Anyway, we were talking about this case, weren’t we?”

“Indeed, yes,” Fullbuster agreed as he crossed his arms. “So … what do we do if it’s really an insider? We can impossibly run background checks on everyone connected to the banks.”

“We can’t, indeed,” Gildarts nodded as he looked at Ur who seemed to be thinking deeply about the matter, “but we can make them give us more information, right?”

“You’re thinking the same as I do, right?” the woman muttered as she turned her head. “That we create some kind of trap … either in form of a challenge or some kind of thing our robbers would want so much that they’d abandon their usual caution completely.”

“If we want to offer them the ultimate reward, we’ll have to tap into your inheritance,” Dreyar said as he looked around, “unless one of you guys has some rare diamonds lying around.”

“Just traded them for food, so sorry,” Fullbuster said and for a moment, Ur’s mouth curled into an amused grin. “But I guess that if we’re about that, your grandma should be able to help.”

“I was thinking to ask Jake, actually,” Ur said with a shrug as she stretched, a yawn escaping her. “The less my grandparents know about my job, the less they worry about me.”

“Excellent point,” Gildarts agreed. He had never experienced Ur’s grandparents while they had thrown a fit over something but it was something he never wanted to see either because it would only remind him how he had spent the past years vastly understating the dangers of his job whenever he had talked to his mother. “So, I suppose we could talk about this later on? After you called him and everything?”

“Sounds like a plan, yes,” she said with a nod. “But first – can we get some cake? I know that I basically spent all day eating but I heard on the hallway that the mess hall has cake today.”

This was indeed a rare occurrence and Gildarts could not blame her for wanting to get her share of it as the cake was usually delicious and it sometimes was hard to get some of it.

“Let’s go,” the medical examiner said as he got up and handed her the shoes she had gotten rid off beforehand in favour of more comfort. “Before Marvell takes everything.”

“I’m coming too,” Fullbuster said as he jumped to his feet, dragging Ur up in progress.

Ur walked ahead of Dreyar and Fullbuster as they headed down to the mess hall buy some cake and before the door fell close, he heard laughter and he smiled because for far too many years, Ur had clung to him and had never made much of an afford to become friends with someone else because she had had this childlike mindset of one friend being more than enough for her.

He waited a moment before he opened his email account and as he held his breath, he finally deleted the message from Dreyar’s mother regarding his return to NAHA. It was something he had struggled to delete because it had been a difficult decision for him as the agency had once been part of his life and it had never been easy for him to cut out things he had once cared about – which was why he had allowed himself to take years for the decision to finally move on from Joan although she had been gone forever for a very long time.

His hand was shaking as he turned off his computer and reached for his jacket. Then, he left the room and took the stairs at the back of the building before he stepped into the cold November rain. It was not his favourite season but thankfully, no one would notice him missing for the next hours. When his team got back, they would think that he had left for a case that did not require them. He had opened up a chance for him to be alone, to be undisturbed.

And this was what he needed. He had turned down NAHA’s offer but he knew that his old employer did not give up so easily. Tempest and Dragneel had understood why he had said no but this did not mean that anyone else had done the same. He could throw Ur under the bus – the director would be thrilled to get her back – but he was responsible for his team’s wellbeing and this included his ex-partner’s. No, he was on his own and he had to hope that his decisions would be the right ones.

He knew that he never would have married Joan because she had been a free spirit and would have bolted at the idea of a ring. When he had been younger, he had translated uncertainty with freedom because he had not known any better. But he had loved her and he had learned a very important lesson back in those days: that love was never about possessing someone but about being the sort of person someone would want to come home to.

 _‘What’s with the long face?’_ Joan would have teased if she was there, if she was standing next to him on the sidewalk. _‘You can’t live in the past, you know that, Gildarts.’_

In a cruel way, she was right. He had long moved on from what had happened, he had long learned how to look into the mirror without hating the man staring back at him. It had been a long time since the day he had failed the two women he had never wanted to fail and he had healed. Today, it was the bitterness over the attack’s cruelty and the knowledge that they had likely been betrayed by a comrade, maybe even by a friend what hurt him still.

He got going because there was no point whatsoever in standing in front of headquarters when there was a place he had to be and there was someone he had to bring along unless he wanted to be the kind of moron he never wanted to be. It was probably idiotic of him but he wanted to tell Cornelia the story of how he had lost a part of himself, the part he had tied to a woman who had gone into her death with a grin on her face and a sarcastic remark on her lips.

 _‘Courage! Courage!’_ Liam Tempest would have said, in another time, back when he was still the one who had handed out the high-tech equipment operatives used out on the field. And Gildarts wanted to be brave, wanted to do this so it could not longer drag him down whenever he accidentally thought about this situation, about what had ruined him once.

He straightened his shoulders as he walked down the street, meeting Cornelia at the corner where her coffee shop was located and smiled. “Hey there, pretty lady,” he greeted as he briefly kissed her. “I got off work earlier today … how do you feel about a little trip?”

“Oh, hello,” she replied as she smiled back at him, brushing a strand of brown hair behind her ear. “Didn’t think I’d get to see you at all this week … Fullbuster and Dreyar mentioned something about having a ton of work to handle when they came by to get their usual drinks.”

 _Busted_ , he thought for a moment before he decided to play it cool. “Ah yes,” he said as he winked at her. “We really have a lot of work but Ur showed up at work today and with her handling them, I can afford to take you for a drive.”

“You aren’t neglecting your work, are you, Agent Clive?” she asked with a coy smirk of her own. “But yes, please take me for a drive – it was one hell of a day at work today.”

“Having to listen to Frosty and Fullbuster completing each other’s sentences like they are part of some TV show wasn’t my favourite part of the day, either,” he said as he scoffed. In a way, it calmed him that Ur was showing interest in someone who was probably not out to use her to make career – like, surprise, Bane – but at the same time, it appeared like she was out to break her own heart all over again because she was never going to make a move and fr some reason, the same went for Fullbuster so that they would probably be awkwardly looking at each other for the next hundred years – unless some kind of miracle happened.

Gildarts had always felt somewhat responsible for the woman who had been with him all those years but he also knew what Ur was thinking about him staying with her for such a long time, how she was sometimes nearly convinced that he was only sticking around because he did not want to be responsible for tearing her apart by leaving her the way everyone had always left her. He knew that sometimes, she nearly wanted for him to leave so that she could rebuild herself from the scratch, without being dependant at all.

“They came to get coffee a few weeks ago,” the woman said as they walked back to headquarters where Gildarts had left his car. “They bickered like teenagers experiencing their first crush ever. It was nearly adorable from my point of view.”

“It’s not quite as adorable when you are trying to talk about a case and they constantly lose themselves on side topic,” he said as he rolled his voice, disapproval seeping into his voice. “Never thought that I’d ever say that but – the sooner they actually get together, the better.”

They got into the car and although Gildarts had not been on the street many times – usually, just for funerals or when he wanted to visit someone who had died – it was not difficult for him to reach the Military Burial Grounds. It was a place of great – if sad – importance to him, after all, and so he had been there a few times over the past decades.

The graveyard was silent and only the sound of their shoes on the ground disturbed the silence. Gildarts was quiet because he had – for once – nothing to say and Cornelia did not speak because he had asked her to trust him and this was what she was going to do. Sometimes, he felt blessed because so many people in his life accepted that sometimes, there were no words that were appropriate for a situation.

In summer, the place was nearly pretty. The trees on the grounds would be green and here and there, red roses were shining bright – but then, Gildarts had never seen the place in summer or spring and had only heard Ur talk about it to others. He had never been to the graveyard after the funeral because he had not been able to see the stone that had indicated the loss of a life that had been far too short and far too precious.

“You don’t have to worry that all our dates will take place on graveyards from now,” he explained as he followed the pathway that would lead them to his least favourite place on the planet. “But I’m a bit bad with words lately so it might be best to just show you.”

This was awkward and he knew what he was gambling on but he knew that the only way he could make this work – especially considering how much of a mess he sometimes was – was by being completely honest with Cornelia, more honest than he had been with anyone in those past five years because it had been so easy to just keep his mouth shut and his secrets close to his heart where no one else had ever gotten to see them.

“Oh, that’s good to hear,” the brunette said as they turned the last corner. “Let me guess – someone important to you is buried here, yes? Someone very important, probably.”

“Yeah,” he said as he mentioned towards the white gravestone and sighed deeply. “Agent Joan Thomson – someone Ur and I lost on our way … well, she was mostly my loss.”

It was odd to say this out loud, to lift the guilt off Ur’s shoulders and to rest it onto his own but the grey November day left little space for him to lie about what had truly happened. He had not gone with them, he had underestimated the danger. It was on him, not on Ur – and he really wished that she could accept this fact rather than to wrap the guilt around herself like it was some kind of cloak to keep her shielded from people who cared about her.

As NAHA had started out as a branch of Fiore’s national military – an aspect no one liked to mention in the presence of their director – all agents’ ranks had corresponded to a military rank. There had been some complicated chart Gildarts had never bothered to memorise and whenever an agent fell, their contracts were consulted because the day they had entered the services of NAHA and sighed over their souls to a system, they had stated whether or not their military rank was supposed to be stated on their grave stones – and Joan had wanted this.

She had been the daughter of an old military family and although she had broken her father’s heart by choosing the agency over the army, she had still made them proud because she had fallen in the line of duty which was a honourable and fitting death for any member of the Thomson family.

 

 _Here Rests_  
Agent Joan C. Thomson  
Major of the Fiorean State Military  
Awarded for bravery, compassion and guidance   
An exemplary agent, a loyal soldier  
Aged 27  
Some leave behind a legacy of immeasurable value.  
Some die defending a country’s beliefs.   
Some are never forgotten by those who remain.

 

“She died young,” Cornelia said as she clung to his arms. “How long ago … did it happen?”

“Six years ago,” Gildarts replied as he wrapped his arm around her, his eyes closed. “She and Ur … they were sent to collect a scientist from a secret base … and I was supposed to go with them … but I thought that it would be a walk in the park, that they wouldn’t need me.”

“Is that why you left NAHA?” she asked as she traced circles onto his arm in a soothing manner. She was so much calmer, so much more at peace than anyone else he knew.

“It was not exactly what I wanted … but, you know, it kinda felt wrong to stay after what had happened,” he admitted as he looked at the grave before he pressed a kiss onto Cornelia’s forehead. “Looking back, I sometimes think that I should’ve stayed – to deal with it the right way instead of following Ur into the next circle of hell.”

* * *

 **stay close to me**  

* * *

 

They were being followed by someone from the moment they left headquarters after work. It sent a shiver down Ur’s spine and her left hand unconsciously reached for where her holster with her gun would be on a usual day of her working for the national security but as she was currently on a sick leave, there was no gun for her. She still straightened her spine as she grabbed Silver’s arm and dragged him down the street. It was hardly the best idea she had had all week but she was not going to risk any kind of confrontation in the middle of a street because that would be an unnecessary risk to take for her.

“We got someone coming after us,” she said as she stepped into a store, looking around casually while scanning the scene. She had no idea who was after her – well, she remembered that she had gotten onto some agencies’ radars back in the days and she knew that some people would still pay money to silence her forever but it was a generally accepted fact that those who lived long enough to retire from the spy business would be left alone.

“Bank robbers?” he asked, obviously trying to make a joke to ease the mood but she did not fail to notice that he briefly reached for his gun; in the end, they were both agents to the bone.

“I wished they were bank robbers,” she muttered as she went through the shelf of books in front of him. “You see anyone suspicious yet, Silver? Anyone who looks out of place?”

“No,” he replied as he rested his hand on her shoulder, carefully manoeuvring her towards the side exit. “How do you feel about getting somewhere where we can get disguises?”

“While it would be awfully amusing to watch this, I fear we don’t have the time for this,” an ageless woman with long black hair said as she appeared next to them, seemingly out of the shadows. “Agents Fullbuster and Lund, it is quite a pleasure to finally meet you … I heard so much about the both of you.”

“If you really have heard about us, you know that we won’t go down without one hell of a fight,” Silver hissed as he crouched down a bit, moving into a fighting stance. “We both had—”

“—only the very best combat training, I know,” the woman said as she smirked. “And this is exactly why you became interesting to us … agents. We had you on the radar for a while.”

“If you are NAHA,” the man started before Ur stepped onto his foot, not too gently.

“NAHA doesn’t recruit like this,” she said calmly as her eyes narrowed. “They send agents as the second step, never as the first. But you do work for a national agency, right?”

“I am the head of the organisation, not some lowly pawn,” the woman said as she mentioned toward the black car that had been parked close by. “Lamia … I suppose neither of you heard about this before, we work in the shadows – which makes it so fitting for me to the head.”

Ur had never been fond of supposed leaders who talked to much and this woman was one of them. Of course she knew what Lamia was, she had worked for NAHA in a high-ranking position and she had been working with Lamia more than once in the past – never officially, of course, because on the list of national and international agencies, Lamia was never mentioned because the normal civilians never even heard rumours about their existence. They were the diligent workers who fixed problems even the other agencies knew nothing about. However, it worried her that the head of the organisation had left the shadows to personally contact them as this was hardly a social call. The woman wanted something from them and it might turn out to be healthier for them and their friends and family to go along with it.

“You appear to believe that you talk to two idiots,” Silver said with a scoff as he rolled his eyes. “I heard from you guys before … you’re the Land-Air Military Intervention Agency – some say you guys clean up the messes all the other agencies make.”

For a moment, the stranger was taken aback before she turned to look at Ur and raised an eyebrow. “I suppose I can see why your team keeps him around,” she said in a fake-casual tone, “for a former soldier, he really knows quite a bit about the agencies.”

“I would much prefer that rather than to not-so-subtly insult my colleague, you could get straight to the point,” Ur scoffed as her eyes narrowed, focusing on the woman. “If you’re trying to recruit us, please take note that our loyalties are with ECID and not with you.”

“But you probably would agree that you both possess skill sets that are awfully underappreciated in your current field,” the woman said as she smiled patiently at them. “We weren’t able to get to Agent Clive in time, meaning that NAHA will probably snatch him away … but it might be the right time to bring you in.”

“So we’re the second place trophy for you guys because you couldn’t get your hands on Clive?” Silver asked with a frown, feeling obviously offended by the woman’s words. “You really know how to make an agent feel special … but really, we’re agents of ECID.”

It was good that he sounded so certain about this because Ur had to admit that she was feeling a tiny little bit tempted. She had been with ECID for more than four years now and she had gotten a little impatient because it was true, her original skills were rarely used. She was a field operative by nature – infiltrating, interrogating, impersonating were three skills she had mastered a very long time ago – and she had not always been happy with the idea of sitting in an office for the next years until the glorious day when she would finally retire into a life that was peaceful and free of any fear for her life.

“The offer I’m making is less an actual offer than the message that you have been reassigned,” the black-haired woman said as she crossed her arms, giving them both an amused smile. “Like I said – Lamia had their eyes on you for a pretty long time now.”

“I would rather go to work for my father than to leave ECID,” Ur spat out as she scowled at the other woman. She had always hated it when agents had been pushed around on the bigger chess board like it was nothing – and that had been before it had happened to her. She had chosen police work for a reason. She had wanted to settle down a bit, to work in more specific field. She had been done with the not so glamorous jet set life agents of international agencies lived because she had never really been cut out for this sort of thing. She had not meant to stay in Era for the rest of her professional life – that would come a bit too close to calling one place her home – but she liked the city well enough to consider staying for the next five years.

“You are just as short-tempered as the reports say,” the woman said as she tsk-ed in a disapproving manner which fuelled Ur’s fury. “But you realise that what Lamia can offer—”

“I think that Agent Lund and I agree that at the current situation, it would be unwise for either of us to become involved with a new organisation,” Silver said, seemingly calmly as he rocked back and forth on his feet. “We both can’t afford to make … selfish decision as we have … parental duties to our … charges.”

It was not exactly the kind of statement she had expected to come from him but she was grateful nonetheless because it opened a window for her to think about what was happening, about this utter nonsense. No self-respecting agency recruited like this – it was something she knew because she had recruited for NAHA back in the days and she knew the terms of the trade, knew what sort of behaviour was absolutely uncalled for … like telling the targets that they would have no choice whatsoever in the matter because this was against the rules of the business. Each agent who worked for the protection of Fiore was doing it because they had wanted to, because they had dedicated their life to such a noble purpose – and not because some shady woman had appeared and told them that they would have no other choice.

And as far as self-respecting agencies went, Lamia was surely one of them – although they had a reputation for changing their name around a lot but always kept the letters intact because their official crest was a lamia, just like NAHA’s was some mythological lion.

But this did not change that the purpose of this interaction was not recruitment. They wanted something else and she needed to figure it out before it was too late – their future might depend on it and she was not going to ruin this for either of them.

“Miss,” she said before the woman could reply to Silver’s last statement because there was a wild thought in her head and this would make sense. “Do you realise what I did for NAHA?”

The question seemed to take both others aback and she could see Silver rolling his eyes, mouthing that this was hardly the right time for her to have her ego flattered by some shady stranger who probably had nothing good in mind for either of them.

“I suppose the better question would be what you haven’t done for NAHA … and I think the answer would be taking a position of leadership,” the stranger said as her eyes narrowed while Ur’s smile returned to her face – but it was not the kind smile she usually smiled.

“Indeed, I suppose I have a bit of a _‘been there, done that’_ reputation in the business,” she said with a yawn, “and most people forget that I did recruitment assignments … I know how proper recruitment looks like … and I can tell it apart from attempts on manipulation.”

And Silver Fullbuster instantly caught on. She had suspected that he – much like Gildarts – did not show his entire intelligence all the time because he was usually too busy being reckless and rushing into situations without a proper plan, relying on his skills to get him out alive. She had even hoped that he would understand what she was getting at because they had been on the same team for quite some time now and although he was not Gildarts who had, in their best days, been able to read her mind which had made their life easier, he still knew the way her mind worked well by now.

(It made her feel slightly better about being attracted to him for some reason.)

“I guess what Agent Lund means is … you aren’t Lamia,” he said as he raised an eyebrow, “and that you are acting like a terrible person to keep us from joining Lamia … which means, of course, that you somehow benefit from us developing a dislike for the organisation.”

Ur nodded as she reached into her handbag, her fingertips colliding with a smooth surface which she – upon brief consideration – identified as a knife which calmed her mind because she was no longer unarmed. “So, would you mind telling us what’s really going on or do I have to hurt you to make you tell me?” she asked, her voice pleasant but cool. Not all interrogations she had been a part of in her lifetime had been quite as clean as she would have liked them to be and although she had always hated torture, it was something she had long grown used to.

“You wouldn’t do that?” the woman asked but beneath her makeup, she paled. “Clive, perhaps. Fullbuster, definitively. But not you, Agent Lund. You are a good person.”

“I suppose I am, yes,” she said as she leaned closer, her face covered in darkness, “but you do remember what they say about Clive and me, don’t you? I got this _merciless_ sense of right and wrong. He forgives far more than I do. But I handle betrayal better than he does.”

“To translate her, miss,” Silver said as he smirked widely, “she isn’t afraid of doing the bad thing for the good reason. As for me, I’m just in for the ride … and if she gives me a good reason to do a bad thing, I’m probably down for that, too. She outranks me, you know.”

“You really know how to make a girl feel _special_ , Fullbuster,” Ur scolded gently before she turned her ice cold glare towards the woman again. “So yeah, you make a bad call approaching us like this. I need Clive around to keep me on the good side of this business, I fear, and he is currently gone … so no one can stop me.”

Well, if Silver would want to, he could do it without a doubt. Her arm was broken which put her at disadvantage and he had the advantage of size and strength but it did not seem like he had problems with her current approach – and he was definitively not going to call her bluff and rather let her play the bad cop which was a role she had not filled in a long time now.

The stranger seemed to consider her changes to get away without being harmed and then, she appeared to realise that there was no way out – not after she had just gotten on the bad side of two people who worked out frequently and had had vast combat training in the past. Gulping down what appeared to be fear, she sighed as she gave up any attempts on appearing to be in control. “I got my orders,” she said and the pure terror in her voice was enough to soften Ur’s mood a bit. “Look, all I was told—”

“—was what they thought you needed to know,” Ur completed as she sighed deeply. “Which is actually kinda offensive to us, you know? That there’s someone who really thinks that we’d fall for a trap like this. So you aren’t with Lamia, are you?”

If she looked back at this moment afterwards, she would kick herself because just when the woman was about to answer, a single shot rang out and the next moment was silent for Ur because her eyes were focused on the way the agent of another organisation swayed before she collapsed, a hole right between her eyes. It was like she had been paralysed, her feet refused to move and the next thing she knew was that she sat on the ground in a dark alleyway, her good arm wrapped around her legs and breathing hard while Silver looked down at her.

“Damn,” she whispered as she massaged her temples. “I was getting to her, I could have gotten her to talk … that’s why she was crossed off … whoever send her doesn’t play nice.”

“I guess that our mysterious three party wants to stay in the shadows,” Silver said as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “So, what’s our new game plan?”

“Finding out who she worked for and why it was so important to them that we wouldn’t even consider to join Lamia,” she replied as she pushed herself off the ground. “And I suppose you know how exactly we’re going to do this, right?”

“By talking to a Lamia member we know.”

“Exactly,” she said as she exhaled, pushing the nameless fear for her life away from her.

“Problem, Lamia agents aren’t exactly known to dance around in the first row,” he replied as he helped her up. “So we might have trouble – wait, are you thinking what I think?”

“You have t admit that her way to appear whenever it gets tricky is a little bit suspicious, right?” she asked as she pursed her lips and brushed back a strand of her hair. “And I think it’s kinda weird that all original members of her team were liaison officers between ECID and other agencies … she is the only one where I don’t know who she worked with.”

“So on a scale from _I am fine once I had tea_ to _I am fine once I found out why our dead woman had to die_ … where can I currently find you?” he asked as they walked out of the alleyway to find the street clean – no dead body, no blood – which proved that specialists were at work.

“Try _I’ll be fine once I put a bullet into the skull of whoever is behind this_ ,” she said as she looked around, her eyes narrowing. “Also, how do you feel about abducting a colleague?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said as they continued their way to the subway station. “But seriously, we have to get her to talk and I doubt that she’ll be easy to crack.”

“Which kinda makes me feel bad about it,” she said with a sigh before she stopped to look at him, her eyes entirely serious. “You knew that I was bluffing about torture earlier, right?”

“I wasn’t too sure about that one, actually,” he admitted as he dragged her along, “I suppose you’d have the guts for it … but it wouldn’t be your style. Crossing someone off, yeah, I kinda can see that. Torturing someone for information? Not your way to get your hands dirty.”

* * *

**there's nothing left to break (that's not already broken)**

* * *

 

He would never have found out if Ur had not forgotten her tablet at the office and if he had not known that she would need it later on as it contained a large part of her current research. He also would never have gotten involved if he had not had a spare key to her new apartment – she had always been far too trusty when it came to handing them out – or if she had just answered the door when he had rang the bell.

But then, even if he had been warned, he would never have believed that two people he believed to be rather intelligent – Ur was a genius and Fullbuster was usually far from stupid – would be idiotic enough to get tangled up in this sort of business because they were supposed to be specialists, correct? It appeared that they had never gotten that memo because as Ivan stepped into the living room, the first thing he caught sight off was Agent Grandine Marvell, cuffed to a chair, which seemed to amuse her more than it should which was rather odd because usually, people did not like the idea of being handcuffed.

He exhaled as he leaned against the door before he looked at the woman. “…mind explaining me what sort of game is played here?” he asked as he crossed his arms.

“I suppose this is Lund’s idea of getting me to talk … entirely ignoring that I would be considerably more willed to spill the beans if she wouldn’t have abducted me.”

He sighed deeply as he pushed himself off the doorframe and crossed the room, slumping down on the couch. “And you and I, we both know that the only reason why you are still here is that you want to stay,” he said as he mentioned towards the standard issue handcuffs.

Ivan had always been informed which agents of ECID had been working for which agency previously – sometimes, because he had brought them in and in other cases because they had been anything but discreet about their professional origins.

In the case of Agent Marvell, he had not known about it for the longest time. She had been good at covering up her traces and she had joined ECID at a young age, making previous involvement with another agency unlikely. However, he had figured it out in the end because she had gotten sloppy. Her approach during the time Ur had been kidnapped had been a bit too calm, too professional. And when he had asked her, she had not denied anything.

Grandine Marvell was, after all, a true professional and only incompetent fools would be arrogant enough to believe that their undercover assignment would remain undetected and that they would walk away from everything unquestioned. The woman in question on the other hand had always known that there was a chance of her being found out at some point and so she had not played around when her cover had no longer deceived Ivan. She had confirmed his suspicion and she had asked him not to blow her cover as her assignment relied on the ignorance of others regarding her true allegiances.

And Ivan had kept her secret because it had not been necessary to unsettle everyone else. There was nothing bad about having a Lamia agent close by, ready to act when things went South in a way that went further than the usual little disasters they frequently dealt with.

“Mostly because Lund and Fullbuster are incredibly entertaining,” she replied with a smirk as she leaned back in her chair. “I don’t know how you and Clive get any work done to be honest … if I was on your team, I’d be far too busy laughing about their antics to work.”

“Where are those two idiots, anyway?” he asked as he mused if Ur would mind it very much if he helped himself to a drink. “Did they bind you to the chair and left?”

“I think they are getting pizza, yes,” the woman said with a shrug, amusement written all over her face. “To be honest, I don’t mind this whole abduction thing as much as I should.”

“You don’t even mind the handcuffs as much as any normal person should, Marvell,” Ivan sighed as he crossed his arms behind his head. “Did they even ask any questions so far?”

“First of all, if we talk about the many uses of handcuffs, this conversation will move into a direction that will probably make you _uncomfortable_ ,” she said with an impish smirk surrounding her lips and a rather suggestive eyebrow shift – and she was right, he really did not want to know anything about this. “Secondly, no, they didn’t. I suppose they try to use basic interrogation strategies on me.”

The medical examiner rolled his eyes as he sighed, again. “I’d apologise for their behaviour but I don’t think you would want one,” he said as he tried not to think about what she could have meant with her remark about handcuffs as this would probably be better for him. “And I guess they try to make you sweat while you wait for them to break the questions to you, Agent?”

“To be honest, it’s probably good that they are on the side of righteousness because they would fail pathetically as criminals,” she said with a huff as she crossed her legs before she rolled her shoulders. “Alright, it’s probably because neither of them is entirely comfortable with the idea of kidnapping a colleague.”

“They really are idiots,” Ivan scoffed as he shook his head.

“Ah, don’t be so hard on them,” she said as she yawned. “I think all they know about being kidnappers is what they learned from movies … so I suppose that they have no idea what they are supposed to do. That’s what I hope, at least. Otherwise, this is embarrassing.”

“I suppose you can ask them about this yourself because they are back,” he said drily as he turned his head to look at the both agents in the door, disapproval written all over his face. He did not even know what he had expected of them, considering that they were both people who had always preferred a blunt approach. Maybe he would have thought that Ur who had been recently kidnapped would know better than to go right ahead and abduct an ally.

Ur had the decency to look vaguely embarrassed as she put down the box that likely contained pizza but Ivan was not entirely sure if it was because she had been caught abducting a colleague or because she knew his opinion on eating pizza twice in just one day. Fullbuster, on the other hand, acted like it was the most natural thing in the entire world to enter a living room where a fellow agent was cuffed to a chair – but then, the man had always been an excellent actor and Ivan was rather sure that he did not know what the specialist was thinking.

“Oh, hello, Ivan … I suppose this is the moment when I tell you that it’s not what it looks like but that would be an insult towards your intelligence,” Ur said awkwardly as she reached into her pocket to retrieve the keys for the cuffs, fumbling around with them for a moment as she looked uncomfortably around in the room.

“Don’t bother,” Marvell said cheerfully as she twisted her hands, temporarily unhinging her wrist before she slipped out of the cuffs like it was the easiest thing in the world for her. “And I hope that you brought some tuna pizza for me, I’m absolutely _starved_.”

“… _freaky_ ,” Fullbuster muttered as he slumped down on the couch before he raised an eyebrow. “So, Agent Marvell, what can you tell us?”

A small part of Ivan wanted to inform the former soldier that Marvell was hardly the only person who could free herself from most handcuffs with relative ease but then, the medical examiner decided against it because there was a hope that Fullbuster never would have to get into a situation where it was necessary and even if it was ever necessary, he should be able to figure it out on his own because it was mostly common sense that was necessary.

“Technically,” the woman said as she shrugged, “I can’t tell you anything because I’m not even supposed to know about this – it’s above my clearance level, you see?”

“Then how do you know?” Fullbuster asked as he frowned at her, discontented with her words because he preferred answers that were clear and straight to the point.

“Because clearance levels are a construct that is supposed to offer a vague orientation,” Ur replied as she raised an eyebrow at the white-haired woman. “Don’t look at me like I just revealed the meaning of the universe – I did level C assignments when I was on level E … sometimes, skill is more important than clearance.”

“And in my case, I had been long assigned to ECID and had myself established here as an agent when I got an actual order, yes,” Marvell said as she yawned, once again, showing her apparent disinterest in the entire issue. “You guessed right, by the way. I’m indeed with Lamia and my job was indeed to keep an eye on you along the way.”

It was Ur who reacted before anyone else could move, she jumped to her feet and grabbed her phone from the table, dialling Clive’s number before anyone else had even blinked. The black-haired woman was furious but she refused to let it out because half the time, she kept her emotions buried and stayed in the silent room inside of her. It was a silent room Ivan had been supposed to find and fill out back when he had trained in martial arts but he had never gotten there. He knew, however, that Gildarts Clive had not only found this silent room but also that the red-haired man did not leave it unless he had to go and fight against someone who threatened what he cared about. Even Ur did not spend that much time in there.

“Gildarts is coming here once he dropped off his girlfriend,” Ur said as she sat back down, her movements and her breathing controlled to the point that even Ivan could not read her mind. She was moving stiffly but that might mean both – either, she was in pain which was always an option lately because her arm troubled her more than she cared to admit, or because she was absolutely furious with someone who was not Grandine Marvell and kept this anger at bay until she was faced with this person.

A likely candidate for this would be Ivan’s mother; Ur had never been afraid to pick a fight with the probably most powerful woman in the entire country because as a former agent of NAHA, Ur had dirt on everyone, even Porlyusica.

“Ur,” Marvell said and there was a vibe in her voice that lacked the usual teasing attitude of the woman. For the first time since Vastia’s death, Grandine Marvell was completely serious about something and she nearly sounded apologising. “You know…”

“You were acting on orders, yes,” Ur said as she dropped her phone and sighed deeply. “I know exactly what that’s like … and I’m not mad at you, either. I’m mad at someone else.”

But although she was not angry at the other woman, she was likely disappointed and this was someone Ivan could understand – Ur had trusted Marvell and she probably believed that her trust had been misplaced. And as everyone around them was falling apart more and more every day, this was probably not the best thing that could have happened. Clive was already halfway gone, perhaps not back to NAHA but to a place where no one could accompany him because he was on a path of self-realisation. And Ur herself was growing more and more frustrated with the slow healing of her arm.

* * *

**turns thinner than water**

* * *

 

Clive arrived twenty minutes later, his hair in disarray and tie crumpled but grinning widely. Ur rolled her eyes at his appearance but he just smirked back at her before he gave her a thumbs-up to which she replied – non-sarcastically – with _‘Congratulations but remember to file in your request for time off’_ before they both slumped down on the couch next to Dreyar which meant that the three of them were squeezed together while Silver had an entire couch to himself.

There was a tension in the living room now and for a moment, Silver had no idea where it was coming from before he looked from Dreyar to Clive and realised that it was indeed his usually easy-going, laid-back partner who was currently shaking because this could easily go down a path the man never wanted to travel again.

Agent Marvell – self-proclaimed agent of Lamia and their unofficial babysitter – on the other hand was as calm as possible. She was sitting on the couch, her ankles crossed in a way that screamed that she _wanted_ to be seen as ladylike, and sipped her tea like she had all the time in the world. Her wrists were reddened from the handcuffs that were now dangling off her belt and Silver really wished that she would just go ahead and spill the beans already.

“This is some very good tea, Lund,” she complimented as she finally put down the cup and folded her hands. “So, what do you want to know? How Fullbuster was manipulated into joining ECID? How we evaluated the situation as it unfolded? Or do you want my pancake recipe? Because believe me, that got a clearance level none of you has.”

Usually, Silver would not have cared much for the usual verbal tricks of others but this time, it actually hit a nerve because as far as he was concerned, no one had told him to join ECID. He had been absolutely free in his choice. Hell, his former commander had even advised for him not to join the organisation and to reconsider being a professional athlete. The reason why he had joined had been because it had been a way of doing the right thing and because it had been exciting and because it had been Layla’s agency – but this did not mean that he had joined the department just because of his old friend.

“I joined because I wanted to,” he scoffed as he rolled his eyes, “and not because someone told me to, Marvell. If you think that anyone could tell me what to do, you don’t know me at all.”

“You were advised against joining ECID, weren’t you?” she asked as she raised an eyebrow before she sighed when he nodded. “It was what was supposed to be the safest way to recruit you for the department … by telling you not to join. Reverse psychology or something.”

“But why?” Ur asked as she ran a hand through her hair while her other hand came to rest on Clive’s wrist, her forefinger pressed against the man’s pulse while her face momentarily betrayed her worry. “Why would anyone undergo such massive efforts to recruit someone?”

It was a question Silver would like to have answered as well but he was not quite sure if he could have asked it as calmly because he was slowly getting rather furious.

“Because all of you are absolutely blind!” Marvell snapped as she threw her hands into the air, her voice nearly toppling over because she was slowly getting overly emotional. “C’mon, you can’t tell me that you _never_ questioned why you were put together into one team.”

Silver looked from Clive to Dreyar and found his own confusion mirrored in their faces. Good, this meant that he was not the only one who had absolutely no clue whatsoever what she was on about. He tried to catch a glimpse on Ur’s face but she was looking out of the window and all he could see was her clenched jaw which probably meant nothing good.

The overall situation was an odd one and he remembered a time before he had gotten caught up in the weirdness that was his team, a time when his biggest problem had been whether or not his favourite sport teams would get to play in the following season.

“Please don’t yell,” Ur said coolly as she got up to pace around in the room. “I’m trying to think over here and you are doing a _marvellous_ job at making this pretty much impossible for me.”

“I can’t believe that I have to spell it out for you!” the white-haired woman said with a scoff. “The three of you all have been involved with the same organisation before. Six years ago, the attack on the secret base. Seven years ago, the ambush on Fullbuster’s convoy. Hell, even the freaking hostage situation from six years ago – that’s all connected. And yes, I admit that it was the plan to bring you four together to lure them out. And yes, it is problematic that the only thing we got out of it was Chres’ death.”

Silver knew what ambush she was talking about because, hell, it had led to the situation where he had shot himself to get out. But it was difficult to just believe that someone had been calculating enough to use the respective events to throw them together into a team – a team that had been a time bomb for a while – in hopes that whoever had had it out for them all those years ago would come back to finish the job. And he had a vague feeling that whoever had had this idea, it had not been someone he had met so far because they were all far too smart for a plan that _idiotic_.

“That makes no sense,” Dreyar said quietly as he shook his head. “Sorry, Marvell, but—”

“Things the attacks all have in common,” she hissed as she jumped up from where she had been sitting, “it was always timed a bit too good to have been anything but an insider job. Questions after the who and why were never answered. The people that could be apprehended all swallowed the same poisonous pill.”

This sounded like there had been some sort of investigation going on behind the scenes and although he wished that he had been told about this, Silver understood that his former superiors had hardly been able to share mere suspicions with him. And the investigation of incidents that concerned all possible kinds of agencies were usually handled by a third party, anyway. And this third party had probably been Lamia because it was their job to clean up the messes the other major players left behind on a regular basis. And when it had been Lamia to uncover the connection, his superiors had probably not known a single thing about it either which meant that even if they had wanted to tell him, they would never have been able to do this.

Clive was silent for a moment before he looked away from everyone and sighed. “When NAHA first investigated the event,” he said as it became clear that he was looking away from _Ur_ because he could not stand to look at her, “we all agreed that someone from the inside betrayed us … because it’s true, it was too perfect.”

The black-haired woman released his wrist and her eyes gleamed dangerous as she spoke, her voice barely more than a hiss. “And you were going to tell me about this _when exactly_?” she asked as she rose from the couch to sit down next to Silver instead. “We were _partners_.”

And keeping secrets from the partner was a no-go, even Silver knew this and he had never had a partner until he had been assigned to work with Clive nearly a year ago.

Ur was shaking like a leaf and for a moment, Silver did not understand what made her so furious about this before he realised the implication, that Clive had not trusted her enough to share his suspicions with her, that he had perhaps even thought that she had been the mole. And this had to hurt her because they had been through so many things beforehand. A part of Silver wanted to remind her, that it was not her fault when Clive had been messed up enough to think that she would have betrayed their cause but then, he saw something confusing in her face, something that did not belong there right now: guilt.

“Was there proof?” she asked quietly as she looked at her former partner who remained silent and looked away from her. “Gildarts Clive, _was there proof?_ ”

“Don’t,” he finally replied as he shook his head, “please don’t do this to yourself, Ur. Just don’t.“

“Answer my question, Clive,” she snapped as she pressed her lips together. “Please … after all we’ve been through, this is the least you owe me. Tell me: was there proof?”

Silver was not sure if he breathed for the next seconds which appeared to last an eternity because he realised that this was the moment that would determine the fate of their team. If Clive would confirm that there had been proof, there was no way to say what Ur would do. She was already upset and this might just push her right over the edge – this was dangerous.

“No,” the red-haired man said after a second, “there was no proof that you betrayed any of us. The most proof-like thing we could find was that someone had used your laptop – the one you had reported stolen beforehand – to access the data needed to plan the ambush.”

“…so it was still my _negligence_ that killed everyone, yes?” Ur asked, her voice strangled, pained. “Gildarts – you should have told me this years ago. I trust you with _my life._ ”

“You trust me to keep you _safe_ ,” the other man replied, his face remorseless. “And that’s what I did: I kept you safe from a truth you wouldn’t have wanted to learn. I did my job.”

“And people ask why I didn’t recommend to rearrange the partnerships in the team once you returned,” Marvell muttered as she got up to pace around in the room. “Listen, can we please return to what we originally discussed? So, after it was ensured that Fullbuster joined ECID, someone on the inside had to make sure that you all ended up on the same team – between three specialists and two geniuses, you should have rather good survival chances.”

Silver did not really listen to her. He rather reached out and rested a hand on Ur’s shoulder as he told himself that Clive had been wrong to go behind her back, even when it had been to protect her from a truth she had not been able to handle because the outcome they were facing right now was anything but pretty, it was a saddening thing to watch because she looked entirely broken by this and it did not look like this would get better within the next minutes.

“Yeah, I suppose it was better to keep us in the dark about it all,” Clive snapped, his voice venomous but the white-haired woman did not even flinch at his words.

“Don’t you dare to blame her now,” Ur hissed, her good hand grasping Silver’s tightly enough to make it hurt a little. “You and I, Gildarts, we _know_ the meaning of orders, correct? You wouldn’t have told anyone either if you had been in her situation. So play it _fair_.”

They lost themselves on a path of fighting over unimportant things which all covered up the actual issue they had with each other and Silver looked around again, his eyes finally coming to rest on Dreyar who seemed to be unusually calm regarding the revelations of the past minutes – maybe because he was stoic by nature, maybe because it did not really surprise him. The man was a genius after all so perhaps he had known more than anyone else right from the start and had just not chosen to speak about it to anyone.

It was to assume that the reason why Ur and Dreyar both took the revelation in stride – although this was probably relative – was that they were both people who used their minds to solve problems and could easily rationalise these things so that it was no betrayal in their heads but merely a woman doing her job. Clive’s approach was more emotional which was why he was actively blaming Marvell for what had happened while Silver’s own view was that he did not care because who cared for the reasons as long as the result was favourable and as far as he was concerned, it was okay because it had been to improve their chances to survive.

The only thing that made him feel bitter was that he had not been asked, that he had been simply pushed around on the board like he was some kind of pawn. If things had been explained to him, he would still have gone to ECID and he might have been less annoyed with the idea of working with a partner. Actually, he did not quite get why Clive was making such a big deal out of it. It was not like he had been tricked by morons, he had been deceived by people who excelled in this field, by specialists for deceit so he had never stood a chance, anyway.

“You need to understand something,” Marvell said quietly as she pushed her fingertips together to form a tent. “Lamia exists to enable the other agencies to do their jobs. We clean up the messes you guys make and we return back to the shadows. And that’s all we ever do.”

“If that’s really all, why are you so keen on making sure that we don’t get killed?” Dreyar asked as he frowned deeply. “Because I keep thinking about what you told us – and things aren’t really adding up in their aspect. It is the only place where I can’t come up with a logical explanation … which means that I’m probably missing some minor but crucial detail…”

The white-haired woman sighed deeply as she rolled her eyes. “Like I said, I stumbled into the mess by accident,” she said quietly, apologetic, “but I personally believe that it’s connect to something else … perhaps because you are supposed to figure out who is behind all those attacks … because everyone is still in the dark about that … and you know how not-knowing something makes the directors of the agencies and a certain general feel, don’t you?”

Dreyar scowled as he crossed his arms. “Oh, _of course_ ,” he said with a grimace. “When it’s my mother’s business, it’s unsurprising that my father decides to mess around in it as well.”

The medical examiner rarely talked about his family but as far as Silver was concerned, it was not the first time he had mentioned his parents in a work-related context and it was also not the first time that he had let it slip that he was hardly happy with them for some reason Silver really did not want to know because for Dreyar to get angry, it had to be something bad.

“This was always about more than just your parents’ childish rivalry,” Marvell said as she rubbed her wrists once again. “I hope, at least, that they prioritise national security over their fights … because yes, I am not exaggerating right now.”

“Well, makes sense for this to be a security problem of national extent,” Silver muttered as Ur nodded, confirming his words. If there was a mysterious organisation capable of infiltrating a secret service’s base, intrude on a police department’s headquarters _and_ take down an army convoy, it was **bad** and obvious that those people were not the sort they should take lightly.

“And I suppose we can scratch out the possibility of one person acting on their own with some mercenaries,” Ur muttered as she closed her eyes, her fingers now tapping a rhythm against Silver’s wrist. “I’d prefer that, to be honest, but it’s highly unlikely … whoever it is, we talk about someone with _extensive_ security clearances and access to secret data.” She stopped for a moment, her face forming a grimace. “And the ability of taking my laptop,” she added bitterly.

It was probably impossible to say how guilty she had to feel about this aspect. Sensitive data had been stolen while she had been responsible for its safekeeping and it had been used to hurt people she had cared about, friends, people she had loved. It was different from just being unable to take down enough attackers to get them to leave the convoy alone, it was actually enabling the attack.

“We’ll catch them,” Silver promised as he smiled thinly at her. “You said something about wanting to put a bullet through someone’s skull earlier anyway … and the chances for doing so while chasing after those people are probably better than while going after the bank robbers.”

“I didn’t say anything about you going after those people,” Marvell said, her face expressionless. “Because that’s not what we want—”

“Too bad then that those people made this rather personal for all of us,” Clive interrupted, his hands clenched to fists and his knuckles white. “Hold your breath, Agent Marvell, we’ll handle this situation now that we know about it.”

 


	17. xvii.

**we do our best to pretend**

* * *

 

She tracked him down while he was on his morning run the next day, feeling entirely ridiculous as she marched through the rain, her black coat making her nearly invisible, after she had dropped Lyon off at his school, making some weak excuse of wanting to take a walk because the weather was so nice.  
(She really had to work on her lying skills, this was getting _seriously_ ridiculous.)  
But so she reached the corner at the park just when her colleague arrived there as well and so she approached him swiftly, her arms crossed over her chest as she sidestepped a puddle. “Good morning,” she greeted as he slowed his steps, “I suppose we have to talk.”

“This is the worst conversation starter ever,” he said with a huff as he rolled his eyes at her. “I actually think the only time you use these words is when you’re breaking up with someone – wait, you are breaking up with me.”

“I personally see a few technical problems with that breakup,” she said as she rolled her eyes back at him, “for example, the part where we aren’t dating in the first place.”

“True, true,” he said as he fell into a quick walking pace as they headed towards the exit. “So, what’s the reason behind this cloak and dagger operation, agent?”

“We currently keep a secret from the rest of the team and I wanted to check in with you to make sure that we’re on the same page,” she said as she followed him down the street, hurrying to keep up with him as he moved faster than she did. “And I could have dragged you off at work – the cast comes off today, by the way – but that would have resulted in questions.”

“You really are paranoid,” he muttered as they crossed a street, his pace slowing a little. “But I get your point, we wouldn’t want any questions to be asked.”

“Being cautious kept me alive,” she said as she pressed her lips together. “Anyway, I suppose we’ll keep it the way it has been so far, yes? That we don’t tell them about it?”

“It’s probably easier, yes,” he said with a nod and a shrug. “I mean – Clive’s going to throw a fit when he finds out because it might be connected to our current assignment.”

“Let me handle Gildarts,” she said as she rolled her eyes. Technically speaking, Silver was right. Gildarts would be very unhappy to learn that they were keeping a secret from the team but he was in no position at all to accuse her of it because he had done the same thing for years – and he knew that she was still pissed about that and would probably rather cut off his own tongue than to bring it up.

“I actually still wait for you to yell at him,” he said as they turned a corner, getting closer to his house with every step. “And if you decide to do it, let me get earplugs and popcorn first.”

She rolled her eyes as she pursed her lips. “He knew better than to keep it from me,” she said quietly, her hands clenched to fists because it had hurt her more than she would ever willingly admit. “It makes me wonder what else he never told me, you know?”

“I’m actually kinda sure that he really thought that he was doing the right thing,” he said with a shrug. “It’s no excuse but … it’s an explanation and sometimes, that has to be enough.”

He was right and the rational part of her knew this and acknowledged it, too. But then, there was this small part that was furious with her former partner, the part that was not willed to listen to logic because it had been betrayal – and usually, Gildarts did not do that because it was against everything he stood for. She could handle betrayal, she had handled it in the past – but it hurt her that he had gone behind her back, that he had broken with his own ideals to do what he had called keeping her safe from a truth that would have hurt her in any case.

“It’s just…” She sighed deeply before she shook her head. “I can count the occasions when I kept him in the dark on purpose without trouble … because I always felt that partnership could only work if both sides are honest … and now, I heard that he kept something major from me for all those years … it makes me wonder…”

“…what else he kept from you, yes?” Silver asked with a sigh as he unlocked the front door of his home. “I know what you mean … but I think that you have to let it go before it eats you up. You need to trust him, blindly and against better knowledge – and that’s—”

“Impossible, even for me,” she said as she followed him down the hallway and into his living room. The loss of faith in her former partner had been what had hurt so much about the revelation, what had kept her from contacting anyone of her team for a whole week. She had needed time to work out where she stood with them, knowing that one of them had kept her in the dark – especially when the horrible thought that perhaps, Ivan had known about it as well, had struck her and kept her from sleeping well.

“I thought it was your thing to prove that you can do things most people would call impossible,” Silver said as he shrugged. “Oh well, I’ll shower really quick … and then, we can talk this over. I have some news you probably haven’t heard so far.”

This went without saying. While she had spent the past days sulking – and working out because her fitness was a joke lately – he had been at work, probably already investigating the mysterious cases. And she would like to be informed when she returned to work because she was slowly losing her mind from sheer boredom. She had tried to keep herself busy while she had given her team – and especially Gildarts – the cold shoulder but playing scrabble against Lyon had failed to keep her mind off the things she would have to handle once she got back to work and truth be told, she had looked forward to coming back to it all.

“I’ll wait with baited breath for you to return and to tell me what I missed,” she said as she slumped down on the couch, briefly scanning the room. “I’ll count the objects I could theoretically use as a lethal weapon while I wait.”

He briefly stopped in the doorframe before he raised an eyebrow. “You have the oddest hobbies, really,” he sighed as he shook his head at her. “But it’s probably good training … in case you ever end up fighting for your life in my living room or something.”

A part of her wanted to make a joke about it before she remembered her tendency to jinx things and so she rather shrugged as she looked around in the room again. “I shouldn’t keep you from your shower,” she said with a fond expression on her face before she started counting – it had not been a joke on her side, after all. Whenever she had to wait somewhere, she counted objects that could be used in battle if needed because it had been more than once that she had suddenly been involved in some kind of fight without being armed at all.

He left without much of a word and she kept her mind on task as she picked up the sound of water running somewhere in the house. She kept counting and calculating and just when she had found the two-hundred-thirty-fourth way of taking someone down by just using items that could be found in the room – although she had cheated by counting the ways of killing with bare hands, too – he returned, his hair wet and his shirt unbuttoned.

(A habit he obviously shared with his partner which was why she did not care at all.)

“So,” he said as he sat down on the second couch, resting his feet on the table between them, “we have been throwing around options for days now … and we came to a conclusion you’ll hate to hear – that you know one of the people who are behind all of this.”

She was silent for a moment, finding yet another way of taking out an opponent when she spotted the chandelier above them. “Because only someone I knew would have known when to steal the laptop, I know,” she said as she crossed her arms. “Did you think I’d miss this?”

“I had hoped you might,” he replied as he shrugged. “You know, for your own sake.”

“Thanks for asking, for worrying, Silver, bit if I couldn’t handle guilt, I would’ve asked to be removed from this,” she said as she exhaled, hoping for the weight on her chest to disappear because it was certainly troublesome. “I can _handle_ this.”

Mostly, because there was no other option for her. She did not want to be left behind during this investigation and so she had to pull her weight, had to prove to the others that she was fit for duty again – and being unable to handle her part of the job would be a problem. She had to gulp down the panic that was dwelling in her stomach, that there would be realisations waiting for her she would not be able to withstand so easily. Because whatever was coming their way, it had the possibility of ending up deeply personal because as Gildarts had said, it had been personal from the moment that Ur’s laptop had been stolen to make the attack possible.

“That’s good because Dreyar was kinda worried that you’d be mad enough about Clive not telling you about this to refuse to work with us,” Silver said with a shrug as he crossed his arms behind his head. “Anyway, we have tried to reconstruct how much—”

“I don’t know,” she interrupted, her brows furrowing in frustration. “And believe me, I tried to work it out. I wasn’t meant to be the recipient of the laptop, I was supposed to pass it on.”

“And let me guess, the answer to who was supposed to get the laptop and who’s Clive ex is one and the same,” he said as he groaned, his eyes mirroring her own disappointment. “But hey, it explains why she had to die.”

“Wrong,” Ur corrected as she closed her eyes. “She wasn’t targeted specifically, she took the bullet for me – which is why it’s still on me that she didn’t make it out alive.”

“…you know that so much guilt is terribly unhealthy, yes?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow. “And that you probably should just … let it go or something?”

“Please don’t tell me that you are going to join Lyon in his valiant effort of making as many _Frozen_ references as possible,” she said grimly as she remembered how Lyon had refused to wear his scarf in the morning because ‘the cold had never bothered him anyway’ which had led to a very interesting conversation about how the things he saw in movies were not real.

(Thankfully, they had not touched the topic of action movies because Ur had to admit that in her prime, she had been able to pull off most of the moves showed in those movies.)

“Gray blasted the song on his music player for three days straight before I … took out the batteries and informed him that it needs special batteries I simply can’t buy in the store,” he admitted, confusion briefly crossing his face before it clicked. “Lyon loves the movie too.”

“Not the movie,” she replied as she massaged her temples, “but the ice powers … I’ve yet to work out if it was a compliment when he told me that I probably could play Elsa.”

“I won’t comment on this because I have a vague suspicion that Gray might have a tiny little crush on her,” Silver replied after an awkward pause.

“We aren’t really swapping stories about our respective youthful charges, are we?” she asked as she raised an eyebrow and shook her head. “I could have sworn that it would be one of the things I’d only do after takeout and beer.”

“I can’t offer you takeout but I do have beer,” he said with a smirk before he frowned at her. “You’re pretty scared of being called a mother, correct? You play it off as a joke but…”

She sighed deeply as she closed her eyes. “I was nine when I realised that my family was unusual,” she said as she nervously played around with the buttons of her sleeves. “I never really had a reason to question anything, I suppose. But when I was nine, someone asked me where my mother was and … well, they say _‘ignorance is bliss’_ and for me, it ended that day. I never really questioned why I didn’t have someone to call mother, someone to send me to bed … I didn’t have much of a father either so … I simply acknowledged that I was different from my cousins but it didn’t bother me.”

“What on earth distracts a nine year old girl so much that she misses that she has no parents the way most people have parents?” he asked and she tsk-ed softly at the way he had said ‘most people’, remembering that he had grown up in an orphanage. But it was generally accepted that no one ever asked about the origins of another agent unless it had to be asked.

“My cousin and I lived in wonderland,” she said as she shrugged, remembering the long summer days and the long winter evenings. When she had been shipped off to boarding school, her cousin Jacob had followed her and this was why she had been able to withstand being away from home, away from her grandparents’ mansion for such a long time. “Boarding school can be quite exciting if you know the secret passageways and never get caught.”

“Never?” he asked as he raised an eyebrow. “C’mon, you were there for three years.”

“We nearly got caught once,” she said as she raised an eyebrow, “and that was after I had fallen off a tree and broken my arm. Ironically, in exactly the same place where it got broken a while ago which makes this really troublesome.”

It was a minor detail but it was something she had never shared with anyone because the accident from her childhood days had left her arm vulnerable. The reason that her kidnappers had been able to break her arm with relative ease had been that it had never been the same after the accident. It was a weakness, one of the very few physical weaknesses she still allowed herself, and she kept her weaknesses secret as well as she could because it was risky.

“So you are scared of being seen as a mother because you never had one of your own.”

“No,” she replied, her lips curling upwards. “It’s mostly because I realise how easy it is for a parent to ruin their child forever. That’s a lot of responsibility, many make-it-or-break-it-moments … and if you break it, you can’t fix it so easily … if you can fix it at all.”

And everyone knew how much she hated to fail at the moments that shaped people – especially when it was not her who would be shaped by an event. She remembered all the times when she had made mistakes and someone else had paid the price very well – and those were the thoughts that kept her awake at night, not the people she had crossed off when it had been necessary – and against her reputation, it had not been that high of a number. 

* * *

**breaking through the chill**

* * *

 

The first words Ur Lund uttered when she arrived – dressed in her uniform for first time in quite some time – were _“Yes, my arm is good again. No, I won’t arm wrestle anyone”_ before she pushed the files they had put onto her desk aside and put down her bag before she took a sip from the coffee she had bought at the coffee shop where Clive’s girlfriend worked.

Her return was the moment when everything went back to whatever had been normal for them and Silver liked this very much. Indeed, there was the tension between Clive and the female agent but even this was fading bit by bit as time went down because apparently, they simply could never stay mad at each other for a long time because they were too used to being friends. And this was probably good, the last thing the team needed a catfight while they were investigating a matter of national security. A matter which had been, according to Marvell, the reason why they had been put together in the first place. Silver had asked her, of course, because he had wanted to know why on earth they were tasked with something of this importance while there were entire agencies that were supposed to maintain the national security but the woman had just looked at him and said one word: ‘moles’.

And this had made shockingly much sense to Silver because this explanation was ridiculously easy. If there were just four people assigned to a job, it was more difficult for one of them to be a mole and to be discreet about and even if one of them would be a traitor, the circle of suspects would instantly be down to four. And as he remembered from his army days, crossing off four people based on a mere doubt was something no director would lose sleep over because compared to the good of the country, four people dead would be a ridiculous small price to pay.

(He hoped, however, that no one among them was a traitor because otherwise, their respective families would be the ones to pay the price for this betrayal.)

And so the days went on. They worked their way through tons of material which was usually given to them by their friendly neighbourhood Lamia agent which made him wonder why she did not just go ahead and join their team officially because she was working with them on more cases than she was not – before he remembered that the reason why she was at ECID was to discreetly clean up the messes other agents made and she could not do this when she was expected to be part of one unit.

(And some people really thought that he was stupid, how ridiculous.)

It was interesting to watch a taskforce at work. Those who had done something similar before – interestingly, this meant Ur and Dreyar – worked with the kind of silent efficiency they could surely call their biggest strength. They went through files and passed them between each other like it was some sort of sport to them. At the same time, it was Clive who found the most traces for some reason no one could explain because he randomly opened folders.

“…I think I got something,” Silver’s partner said as he looked up from the file he had been reading, his feet on the desk. “Dreyar, your expertise might be needed here?”

The medical examiner rolled his eyes before he reached for the file the other specialist was holding out and upon scanning it briefly, he nodded. “Yes,” he said before he mentioned towards the door. “I suppose, you’re up.”

“He isn’t going alone,” Ur said as she got up from her place on the windowsill and although she was wearing a red sweater instead of her uniform, she looked intimidating enough.

“You sure you’re ready?” Clive asked as he reached for his jacket, a frown on his face.

“The doctors admitted that they kept me out of the field for a week longer than necessary to ensure that I would be fully recovered by the time of my return,” the woman said as she grabbed the hem of her sweater, pulling it over her head to remove it swiftly and traded it for a black shirt that looked like it had been bought in a sports shop, one that looked like the long-sleeved and turtle-necked version of the t-shirt she had been wearing under her sweater.

“Dreyar, Ur ran international missions back in the days,” Clive said as he threw her the key to the weaponry closet. “And I’ll make sure that she’s careful.”

Ur looked like she wanted to strangle him for implying that she could not make sure that she stayed safe without his help but did not comment on it as she reached for the holster that contained her gun and closed the buckles, a smirk crossing her face because finally, she looked again like the one she had been before she had been kidnapped by someone.

“We’re off,” she said as she bound her hair into a ponytail – as it seemed, she still had not have the time to make an appointment with her hair stylist – before she dragged Clive off.

“Like in the good old days,” Dreyar muttered as he massaged his head, a sigh escaping him as he shook his head slowly. “Anyway, Fullbuster, how would you feel about some tea?”

“Let me guess, I got to say yes if I want to know what you meant, right?” Silver sighed. Truth be told, he was confused. Absolutely confused. Back in the army, some people had said that the strongest bonds were the ones forged by mutual trauma and this was perhaps why it was Clive who was currently out on the field with Ur – because she would never let him down for no good reason. So this was probably what Dreyar was talking about and maybe Silver really should listen to the medical examiner in this matter.

“I’m not that mean,” Dreyar said as he poured tea into one cup and took a sip, leaning against his desk with a pensive expression on his face. “I’m actually pretty bad with these things.”

Silver remembered what Ur had mentioned once that talking to other people made the medical examiner very nervous which was why he usually avoided heart-to-heart conversations like the plague. For him to actively seek one out, he had to be somehow interested in it.

Ivan Dreyar was a damaged man, a man who had never been good enough for the people he had wanted to love him. It had been Clive who had mentioned this in passing and if the red-haired agent had been able to see it, it had been rather obvious and so Silver had kept his eyes open wide to see it as well. And it had been obvious that there was more than just one reason for Dreyar to avoid his parents – professionally and personally likewise.

“I suppose that the only way we get over this is if you tell me what you mean,” Silver said although he was certain that he knew what this conversation would be about. He just did not know why it was so much of a big deal. Whatever he felt – he did not know how to label it – was one-sided at best and therefore, it did not have to be discussed. He would get over it soon enough and this would be the moment it would all be irrelevant anyway – so why did the medical examiner feel the need to bring it up now when they had so many things left to do.

“I suppose so, yes,” the other man said as he put down his tea and looked at Silver with a serious expression in his eyes. “Even if this sounds cliché … so, you and Ur, yeah?”

Silver did not flinch, he just rolled his eyes. This was pointless and he would have guessed that a man who was known to be a genius would know better than to bring up a topic that was meaningless to discuss but the answer was obvious to everyone. “You’re being ridiculous, doc,” he said with a scoff as he wished that something would happen that would allow him to escape this situation because it made him uncomfortable.

“I really don’t mean to pry,” the medical examiner said calmly as he cracked his bones, “but … against what you and Clive seem to think, I’m not entirely clueless when it comes to people.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call you clueless,” Silver said although he probably would do just that but never to the man’s face, “but I think that you’re reading too much into all of this.”

It was not nice to tell the man who was likely just trying to help that said help was not needed but sometimes, difficult decisions had to be made and it was something Silver had always been good at. And it was probably better when it was him who broke it to Dreyar than Ur who might even react offended about being supposedly involved with yet another colleague. He had seen the reaction the last time it had happened and it had not been pretty.

“Didn’t you know that I’m nearly incapable of reading the subtext?” the other man asked as he started to pace around in the room, his pale cheeks sporting red dots as he was apparently just as embarrassed by the situation as Silver. “Really, I don’t think I’m imagining things.”

He was not exactly wrong, his mind was not making up too many non-existing things. Silver knew that his gaze sometimes lingered a bit too long, that he often was a bit too fast to agree with her and that he usually did not add much to a quick-paced conversation between the rest of the team because it was easier to just listen and think about it until she asked him a question. If Dreyar had kept his eyes open – which he certainly had – he would have noticed all of this and this would have included his conclusion. But this did not mean that there was some tragic love story hanging in midair, waiting to be written – because there was no way in hell that the feeling was mutual. Or if it was, Ur Lund was the best actress the world had ever seen because she had done a very good job so far at making him think that he was alone.

(Then, there was the fact that she was a former spy and that if someone could pull it off, it would be her because lying was her job.)

“I think you are,” Silver said calmly as he shook his head because this was heading into a direction he was not necessarily fond of. It was not like he disliked the medical examiner but the man was Ur’s friend before he was Silver’s and this meant that his loyalties were with her.

“Yes, because I’m the one who’s happily married and has been for years,” the medical examiner said and there was an unusual sharpness in his voice. This was a man who wanted to be taken seriously, even if it meant to offend someone else. This was not Ivan Dreyar, this was the son of General Dreyar speaking.

(And Silver did not like this at all because frankly, Ivan was a better person than his father. Or his mother. Or anyone else who tried to make him feel like he was horrible.)

This was the only reason why he let the other man get away with this comment rather than to tell him off. Aside from the fact that Dreyar was right, that he somehow managed to be happily married whereas Silver was divorced which might mean that the doctor was indeed the more reliable person when it came to relationships that were based on something more serious than mere physical attraction – although this was pretty important as well.

“You know that if you were someone else, I’d break your nose for this,” Silver muttered as he prayed that he would be able to escape this embarrassment soon because he really did not deserve it. He had been a better person, lately.

“I know, I know,” the other man said before he shrugged. “Take it with a grain of salt, agent, but … it’s no rocket science … I mean, if _Milkovich_ managed to pull it off so should you.”

Silver rolled his eyes. “Yeah, only that she’s entirely not interested,” he said as he reached for the folders and scanned the page briefly before he looked up. “Also, that’s perfectly okay for me – I’m a big boy and can handle this just fine. Seriously.” 

* * *

**i lose my sense of wrong and right**

* * *

 

It was horrifyingly boring for Ivan to take part in this investigation and it seemed like Ur was thinking the same because although she usually liked riddles, this was far too easy for them to tear apart. Agent Marvell had gotten her hands on a laptop which had been confiscated by Lamia and had handed it over to Ur and Ivan, claiming that they should look into this although both of them were not trained in the high art of online investigation. However, with the help of people who had the skill to get through firewalls and passwords like it was the easiest thing in the world, they dug deeper and deeper with every minute and soon enough, it stopped being boring and became extremely scarring.

And Ivan realised why Ur had not wanted to do this on her own and why she had asked him to help her with it instead of someone else. It took a lot to unsettle her but to find an outdated death list where so many names of people connected to her were written down, some even scratched out – marking that they had died – was surely nothing pleasant for her.

“You are sure that you want to keep going?” he asked as he rested his hand atop of hers, worry and dread growing inside of him because all of this was _exactly_ what made people like her snap.

“I can handle it,” she said but she did grasp his hand and held it tightly, her fingernails nearly breaking his skin. “Let’s see what else we can find inside this laptop.”

He had not remarked on the irony that the theft of a laptop in her custody had begun her involvement and that right now, she was the one digging through large amounts of data, trying to find some sort of pattern to predict what would be SHELL’s next course of action. He had not commented on the irony because there had been no one who had not noticed it and stating the obvious was something he left to Fullbuster or Clive; he had higher standards for himself.

“You just read that your grandparents and your father were on their list,” Ivan pointed out and absentmindedly noticed that she reacted to his words by nearly breaking his hand. “Ur, no one expects you to be perfectly fine with this. Hell, I can tell you – I’m freaked out and it scares me.”

“I’m not scared,” she said as she opened the next document, her eyes narrowing. “I only get scared of not knowing something. Knowing too much? Probably the cause of my death but not yet. I promise you, I wouldn’t be sitting here if I couldn’t handle all of this. Also, I am way too angry.”

“Being too angry to be mad isn’t good either,” he argued but his words fell onto deaf ears. Once Ur had a mission she did not stop. And right now, she had assigned herself to the task of digging through documents that looked like they had been taken out of a spy movie. Once in a while, she gritted her teeth and smashed onto the keyboard with more force than necessary but most of the time, she was scarily calm.

Although this was surely the calm before the storm or in her case, the blizzard.

“I just wonder why they didn’t take out my grandparents so far,” she replied after a moment, using the cursor to trace the outlines of her grandparents’ names which were followed directly by the names of Ivan’s parents and other high-ranking members of society. There was the name of Jiemma Orland, a terrible person who was a general in the military of Seven, and the names of countless other military officials and politicians. And business tycoons, again and again.

“I got two theories about that,” Ivan replied as he tried not to feel anything while seeing the name of his mother bolded and in italics on the screen, marking her as a high-priority target. “First of all, they are a long-term investment. People they could take out with ease but wait for the right moment. Secondly, they tried but failed. Remember: they got your cousin lurking around half of the time and your grandpa builds weaponry that makes both my parents weep with joy. Plus, I’m pretty sure that your grandmother’s constant state of being underwhelmed makes her pretty hard to kill.”

This was most certainly true. If there was a woman who had offered someone who had come to kill her cookies and tea because _“it would be a waste not to finish up tea, right?”_ before proceeding to use her medical knowledge to take the assassin down within four minutes and without the man noticing anything, she would be the last one of the low priority targets Ivan would order his mercenaries to take out because it would certainly come with losses and people who were captured could not be used for other projects.

“You might be right about that,” Ur replied as she sighed, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. “I still try to work out who would make most sense to kill next.”

“I suppose it depends on what they want to do next,” the medical examiner replied as he ran his thumb across her wrist, trying to soothe her inherent fear, the fear she refused to acknowledge. “And how much they actually can do at the moment. If I was them, I’d hurry. They probably know that we’re on their heels.”

“If you’d be in their shoes and would have to kill all those people, in which order would you do it?” she asked and there was something blunt and utterly unapologetic in her voice although she certainly knew that she was forcing him into being the person his father had wanted him to be for so many years.

“If we still assume that they want to take down the president, the best course of action would be to kill my mother next,” he said and forced back the feeling in his gut, the feeling of worry for a woman he did not always like but who was always his mother. “Then, my father. If they are crossed off, the entire national defence will crumble like a cookie.”

She reached out, grabbing his second hand as well and squeezing both with a fond smile as she nodded for him, telling him silently that he should keep thinking and that she knew how difficult this was for him but that there was no other way and that she was sorry.

(So many words in one gaze, it was _impressive_.)

“Afterwards, hidden agencies,” he continued as he closed his eyes, allowing the scenario to unfold within his end. “Maybe Lamia’s director – they’d be useless without a head to guide them all. If this is a conspiracy against the country, taking out the heads of all security agencies with a chance to stop them would be absolutely necessary.”

“And after cutting off the heads?” she asked and there was a tremble in her voice that could have been seen as genuine fear by someone who did not know her well although it was most certainly nothing but righteous anger with this plan.

“Not all agencies need one person to lead them, some of them would remain functional even with the directors taken out,” he said as he bit his lip, breaking skin as he used too much force. The metallic taste of blood in his mouth was just as disgusting as it anchored him within his thought process. “ECID, for example. As Dragneel is still with NAHA, they should be able to regain functionality within two hours.”

“But functionality would not be enough,” she said, her eyes widened. “What we need is everyone being at their best … we can’t settle for anything less, right?”

“Right,” he confirmed as he sighed deeply. “If the worst case entered, we’d have to spread out. Not too sure about it but I think that right now, Lamia’s second in command isn’t even in the country. She would have to get back home before Lamia could even access emergency protocols. And that would be the window in which SHELL could make their move.”

“Oh, wonderful,” she said as she scratched her head and released his hands to pace around. “And I guess that’s why my grandparents on the list. If the worst case entered—”

“—they would be able to arm a resistance force, yes,” he said as he reached for his phone. “However, it looks like the odds are in favour right now because we have direct access to the director of the national security and since I hardly ever call, mother still takes my calls.”

“We really need to talk about your refusal to call her to keep her updated,” Ur said as she rolled her eyes before she opened the next file and raised her eyebrows slowly as while her face went sickly pale all of a sudden. It was a copy of the official file regarding her kidnapping and it was marked with an F and it did not take a genius (or two) to figure out that it meant that whatever the purpose of kidnapping her had been, it had not been achieved.

This might have many reasons but Ivan instantly scratched out the idea that killing her might have been the reason why she had been taken. She had been on not a single death list that dated before the event and it would have been very easy for SHELL to take her down when she had been weakened and unable to fight back. But when the purpose had not been killing her, there had been some other reason and for once, Ivan was completely in the dark.

(So maybe this investigation could still turn into something that would be worth his efforts.)

“They could have killed you,” he said quietly as he dialled his mother’s number, “but that never seemed to be their objective … but what else could it have been?”

He had many ideas, one crazier than the next. There was the option of hoping to turn her around, of making her into a pawn for SHELL but this was unlikely because they had access to her NAHA file and as someone who had easy access to all files of NAHA, Ivan knew that she had received excellent rating for her loyalty to her cause and her country and that she had even been considered to be impossible to turn into a traitor with the usual methods because her high pain tolerance and her endurance made it difficult to inflict enough pain on her to make her a pawn without killing her.

“Distraction, I suppose,” he said before his mother finally picked up her phone.

 _‘Ivan,’_ she said instead of greeting him formally or even with the fondness of a mother – not that he had ever expected her to. _‘What is the matter this time around? Another kidnapping?’_

“Greetings, mother,” he replied as he rolled his eyes, his gaze trained on his friend. “Look, I’ll explain everything but – you should get to a safe location where you’re on your own.”

 _‘And why should I do this?’_ she asked coolly but he could hear that she had started to move. _‘Did your father’s paranoia rub off on you, son? Should I worry you’ll turn into him?’_

“No, mother,” he sighed as he massaged his temples. “However, we suppose that if SHELL wants to kill the president and throw the nation into chaos, they’ll kill you first.”

She was silent for a moment before she sighed deeply. _‘I really should have retired a long time ago,’_ she huffed before the sound of heavy doors being opened could be heard. _‘Who else?’_

Ur tapped his shoulder, handing him a piece of paper that contained the newest and most accurate death list with a smile as she had obviously reconstructed it from their data.

 _‘Aside from, of course, your father,’_ his mother said and although her voice was cool as always when she mentioned the general, there was this tinge of lingering fondness in it as well.

“Well…” Ivan started before he begun to read the names off the list, flinching once in a while when he recognised a familiar name, the name of someone he had never met but knew to be either a gifted scientist or one of the country’s pillars – the name of someone who better should survive of they would be in trouble.

 _‘…that’s quite a list,’_ the director of NAHA said after a short moment of silence. _‘And it might be hard to convince them all of the truth of this … oh dear, Orland’s on the list?’_

Her voice implied that she would personally not mind it if the man would die but at the same time, Ivan knew that she would still do her best to keep him alive because for the good of the world, the opinion of Porlyusica Edel was not necessarily the basis on which NAHA’s director operated as she could separate her personal opinions from the duty she was handling.

“This list reads itself like the who’s-who of Earthland,” Ivan replied as he massaged his temples and looked back at the laptop and the file stared tauntingly back at him. “Look, I need to check out something else. Handle this part, yes?”

 _‘It’s my job, son,’_ his mother replied with a sigh. _‘I’ll do my part and you do yours. See you in whatever brave new world we’re going to end up in after all of this will be over.’_

“Brave new world, huh?” Ivan repeated as he ended the call and turned to look at Ur who was still pale and looked like she was a minute from fainting. “Headache?” he asked.

“This isn’t a headache,” she replied as she downed a glass of water before pouring the next. “Or well, it kinda is. But if a normal headache is a pocketknife, this is the nuclear bomb.”

“Pretty comparison, I’m impressed,” the medical examiner said as he rummaged around in his desk to get some aspirin for her. “Lemme guess … you burned out your mind.”

“Of course I did,” she replied as she shook her head and sighed deeply. “Would you mind it very much if I went home? I won’t be of any use for the next few hours.”

Ivan had not suffered from the feeling of having used up all brain power in one go for months now but he remembered the sensation quite while and it had always been very unpleasant. He should have seen it coming the moment she had handed him the updated list because creating such a thing usually took time and this was something they did not have right now.

And Ur had always been the one to take the bullet for the rest of the team so it made sense for her to be crazy enough to do is again this time around, especially since members of her family were on the list as well, making her extremely motivated to do it.

“Go home and rest up,” he said as he mentioned towards the laptop. “I’ll take it from here.”

“You’re the best,” she said as she waved at him before she grabbed her bag, heading for the exit before she turned around to look at Clive and Fullbuster who were sitting on the other side, headphones on and listening into the calls Agent Neekis – a brilliant boy, in Ivan’s opinion – was tapping into for them while they read the text messages which, again, the bald agent had made available for them. “Bye-bye, guys,” she called out to them loudly.

“Bye, Ur, we’ll see you around,” Gildarts replied as he briefly took off his headphones and nudged his partner roughly. “Make sure to stay alive, we’ll kinda need you.”

“Thanks,” she said as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Don’t die out there, yes?” Silver added before he returned to his task and then, the room fell blissfully silent again and Ivan who no longer had to talk to anyone grabbed the laptop and left the office, heading down to where he could play music while he was thinking.

And there was a lot he had to think about, for example, about the idea that Ur’s kidnapping had been supposed to distract them, to bind their attention in order to keep them away from something else.

* * *

**is that the end’s beginning**

* * *

 

It had been a lucky guess of Jura Neekis who had been the one to allow them access to the communication of the terroristic organisation that was now making it possible for Gildarts to read a text message that had been sent from one of the higher ranking operatives – tracking was running at the moment and NAHA would have a field day with arresting them all at once – to someone with a name that was painfully familiar for the specialist. Familiar for him enough to know who this man’s next target would be and to feel _something_.

He had seen a bit too much along the years of his career and while he was still compassionate, he had learned that the only way not to drown in sadness and bitterness – because they could not save everyone – was to keep a certain emotional distance and although others were better at this than he could ever hope to be, he was good enough to feel numb most of the time, unless he was certain that not feeling was worse than allowing the pain in.

Gildarts was staring at the screen and for once, he had no witty comment on his lips because there was nothing on his mind aside from blank terror. He felt how all colour was drained from his face while his heart started to race in his chest. He blinked, twice, but it did not get any better. The name on the screen still caused a sensation in his stomach that could only be called absolute dread.

This was the worst case scenario ever.

“Oh good god,” he whispered as he finally remembered how to speak, his knuckles white against his skin’s usual tan. “We have … we have quite the situation here … this is seriously the worst thing that could have happened.”

Fullbuster looked up and crossed the arm and truth be told, as all colour disappeared from the other man’s face as well, Gildarts knew that he was not overreacting or allowing his emotions rule his heart – this was a disaster and it was certainly about to get far, far worse.

“When I said that the guy was pretty shady, I didn’t think I’d be right,” Fullbuster muttered as he fumbled around with his phone, nearly breaking it as he furiously typed away on whatever text messaged he deemed to be so important that it had to be send out immediately. “…I really should have followed my first instinct and taken him out when I had the chance,” the former soldier muttered as he ran both hands through his hair. “Could have saved us all a lot of trouble, seriously.”

It was not like Gildarts to agree with his partner when it came to their different approaches but he would feel better if he knew what the man was in some nameless grave, six feet under the ground and far away from anyone he might want to hurt – because he was a risk.

It had taken days for them to get their hands on information that allowed them to listen into the communication of their opponents and although there had been some moral issues for Gildarts as he did not really approve of listening into the conversations of others, he had never been happier about the options modern technology allowed them because otherwise, they would not know who the next target was.

“I suppose that someone on their side has a healthy sense of humour,” Gildarts muttered but it was impossible for him to hide the bottomless fear he felt. This could easily turn into something he had been afraid of for a while now and although he was surely not going to admit this out loud, he knew that everyone could see it in his face.

He had never felt this paralysed but then, he had never before been stuck at headquarters while his former partner’s ex-fiancé had just gotten green light to kill her. Usually, he was out in the field, able to do something about what was a threat to those he cared about.

 _‘Don’t tell me you plan her funeral already,’_ a voice in his head whispered and for a moment, he nearly mistook it for Joan’s before he realised that he had finally accepted that she was dead and gone mere weeks ago and that it was Cornelia’s shaking him out of his paralysis. It was the wrong time and the wrong place to think about her because he had to focus, had to work out a quick strategy on keeping Ur’s former fiancé from actually killing her. They all knew that Bane Milkovich was capable of many things and so Ur would be on her guard around him but she would hardly expect for him – or anyone else – to try to take her out.

“…she can take him, right?” Fullbuster asked as he methodically went through his desk, clipping his badge onto his belt and loading his gun. “Clive – _she can, **right**?”_

Gildarts remained silent for a moment before he sighed deeply. “Uusally, yes,” he said as he cracked his bones. “But – she might have trouble, you know? She won’t see this coming.”

On a good day, Ur could take most people in a fair fight but Gildarts was not sure if she would have the chance to fight back. It seemed to be very much like Bane Milkovich to take her out with a single bullet she would never see coming. The man was sly and cold-blooded enough to be some sort of sniper. On the other hand, there was the man’s arrogance and if it would be at least remotely personal for him, he would want her to die with the knowledge that it had been him who had finally beaten her.

(That he had been the one to tear apart her good luck when it came to assassination attempts.)

(Gildarts could hardly believe that he was banking on another man’s arrogance and that he had just acknowledged that his best friend’s survival might depend on it.)

“Why do you think did I text her?” his partner asked as he holstered his gun. _“She knows. Now.”_

“Good,” Gildarts muttered as he closed his eyes. When Ur was warned, she would know what to do and she would not be taken by surprise. She would be able to fight back – and everyone knew that an Ur who knew about the death that was supposed to be hers would fight back with all she had and probably a little more.

As someone who had been unfortunate to go up against Ur in a mock fight when they had both finished their training, before he had started to specialise in martial arts, he knew very well what she was capable of once she stopped to hold back because there was nothing left for her to lose.

“You’re going to find her,” he said drily as he looked at his partner, briefly musing if the man was even still trying to hide that he was feeling something for their sole female member. They would have to split up, one would go to check up on Ur and help her in subduing Bane Milkovich while the other one would join NAHA at the city hall where they would likely arrest one of the organisation’s – SHELL was a horrible name and no one had been able to tell them what it actually meant – heads and afterwards, there would be quite a bit of press to handle.

And Gildarts was infinitely better with that than Fullbuster could ever hope to be. This was one reason, at least. The other was that while Gildarts wanted to break Bane Milkovich’s neck, he would be able to hold himself back – and right now, holding back while dealing with this man was not an option at all. Milkovich had fooled Ur and he had taken advantage of her belief that he was a good person and alone for this, alone for deceiving Ur and surely making her feel awful the moment she discovered what had happened, he deserved pain.

“You know,” Gildarts said awkwardly, “if Ur’s hurting him, you probably should let her. She has every right in the world to be furious with that guy … she needs to let it out.”

“What if she uses her NAHA training to aim for permanent or even fatal damage?” the black-haired man asked as he checked the position of all his weaponry on his person.

“I can’t give you an order,” the red-haired agent said carefully, choosing each word after thorough consideration. “It’s in your hands … but as an unofficial recommendation … the guy has to be stopped. And if I were you, I’d let her use whatever it takes to do just that.”

Because sometimes, the enemy could be stopped, could be arrested and brought to justice on the way they all certainly preferred. The way that was clean, the way that was what the law demanded of them. But then, there were the times when the law had to be broken to maintain justice. The reason why NAHA gave orders to take out criminals was not that they could not arrest them but because they knew that those people would manage to get away unpunished and because they did not want to watch the most horrible people of the earth walking around.

And although Milkovich was more or less a small fish within his own organisation, he was exactly the sort of slimy little bastard that would manage to get away from the law and to keep justice in place, he would have to go down. And whether it was Ur or Fullbuster who brought him down, Gildarts would regret not being there because he would like to make it very painful – especially since ever since they had gained the information that Milkovich was with SHELL, things fell into place in Gildarts’ head.

It had been one of his first thoughts that whoever had been the one to suggest to use hollow point ammunition had to be some sort of sadist because there was nothing uglier than this – which was why this type of bullet had been outlawed a long time ago. Which had been what had always supported the theory of some kind of inside job; even getting the hands on this sort of thing required intense insider knowledge because the only way to get them was by having access to the bullets various secret services confiscated from time to time or by making them but the latter was risky.

He did not quite remember who within NAHA had been the one to suggest that whoever had been the one to plot the attack had been smart enough not to equip all of his followers with the same ammunition to ensure that there would be enough left for future exploits, making the _‘access to the confiscated bullets’_ -theory more likely than any other.

And a high-ranking member of ZCID would hardly have any trouble with getting his hands on some confiscated things – especially when he did not take enough for anyone to notice. Logistically, it had been brilliant and it pained Gildarts to admit that he had not seen this connection before, that he needed to have the information directly on his screen to see the connections that had been there from the start.

“I got it,” Fullbuster said as he finally reached for his jacket and his keys. “Anything else?”

For a moment, the more experienced agent was silent, his eyes narrowing. “If you get the chance, break some of his bones,” he said calmly before he rose from where he had been sitting. He had to get ready as well, had to do his part.

Once upon a time, he had been told that the way to revenge was a dirty and dark one, that it was unwise to give in to the urge to avenge someone beloved because there was simply no point in it. The dead would remain dead and it was the duty of the living to ensure that the sacrifices of those who had passed on did not go to waste, that no one ever died in vain.

He liked to think that between him and Ur, the day would not end without the moment that would finally give some kind of sense to Joan’s and Chres Vastia’s death. It was no longer about the death of two agents, it was about the death of so many people who should not have died the way they had and Joan and Vastia had merely been the ones he and Ur had known best, the ones who were the face for all the nameless people who had died the same miserable death as those two agents who had been formidable in their profession and as people.

It was time to give their killers a taste of what hell would be like because if Gildarts got any saying in this matter, that was exactly where they all would go to the moments of their deaths – because that would be only fair.

* * *

**we were like loaded guns**

* * *

 

Looking back at all of this later on, she did not understand why she had allowed him to enter. Perhaps because she had felt that something was off, perhaps to brag a little about how her life was so much better than his could ever be these days. Or maybe because she had remembered the old saying – _‘keep your friends close but your enemies closer’_. No matter what had driven her to make the decision, Bane Milkovich was sitting on her couch while she was in the kitchen and just then, her phone went off.

One text message, consisting out of one word.

(Later on, she would chew Silver out for relying too much on her intelligence and her ability to read more into a message than what had been transmitted in the first place.)

The sole word was **MILKOVICH** and for a moment, she stared at the screen, confused why her colleague would sent her the last name of her former fiancé before her brain did its job and pieced together the last conversation the team had had and the content of the message she had just received.

And then, it all fell into place and she could hardly believe that she had been so blind. Her laptop had been stolen out of her car when she had stayed overnight at Bane’s apartment. He was a high-ranking member of an agency which meant that he had high security clearance and this meant that he had access to more information that had been necessary for attacks. He was an insider and they had all agreed that whoever was the one behind all those crimes was an insider.

For a moment, she was paralysed. There was something gripping her guts, twisting them and holding them in an iron grip. For a moment, she mistook it for fear before she realised that she was not scared but merely very angry. And while anger blinded most people, it cleared her mind and allowed her to think.

(It might be connected to the heightened rate of her heartbeat which pumped more blood into her brain – but right now, she was in no mood for scientific facts.)

Leaning against the wall, she removed whatever humanity had been in her body because this was going to be bloody and cruel – especially once she checked the gun that had been in the kitchen and found it useless.

But this was okay for her because while she had said that she would feel better once she had put a bullet through the skull of whoever was responsible for this terror, she would also feel better after strangling the culprit to death or after bashing in their skull – as long as they were dead afterwards, she would feel like she had avenged the people who had not made it out alive on that day, six years ago.

Silently, she slipped out of her shoes and straightened her spine before she stepped back into the living room, scanning the place for items she could possibly use as weapons. The gun she used whenever she was on duty was in the bathroom, under her dirty laundry and therefore out of reach but this was not even important right now for her because Bane had made the critical mistake of making it personal for her – and this meant that he would not live to tell the tale about this day.

She was not kind and she was not soft – not now at least. She could be tender or gentle but she would never forget what her instructor had told her once: that being gentle did not mean to be soft, that someone who was gentle could kill silently and would never be suspected of having committed the crime because it would happen with deadly grace, much like the cold killed.

Ur decided that maybe, this was the way she had always been supposed to be because she knew that she had been gentle as deadly frost for the better part of her career. There were not many like her, not many who could smile and mean it while pulling the trigger.

She had been a field operative of NAHA for long enough to still carry the marks of this life. She had been a spy, once. She still could be one, still could unravel her target’s mind and defences with a few well-chosen lies. And sometimes, this was something she regretted because she had buried herself under so many layers of people she had been at one point of time before she had discarded them in favour of someone else.

“Don’t be a baby, hiding is beneath you,” Bane taunted and she gritted her teeth, leaning against the wall and breathing deeply as she assessed the situation. Neither of them would be willed to risk weaponry out of fear to end up on the receiving end of whatever gun or knife they might use. This left old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat and this was perhaps not her forte but it was something she should be able to beat him at.

“Wasn’t trying to hide,” she said as she pushed herself off the wall, her eyes narrowed.

“I am actually somewhat happy that we’re going to settle it this way,” he said he removed his stiff black jacket, moving into a fighting stance. “Makes me feel less bad about killing you – I’m giving you a fighting chance … let’s see what you’re going to make out of it.”

She did not bother to dignify this comment with a reply because there were more important things on her mind. However, she did not see the vase flying at her before it collided with her head, causing her to fly backwards and straight into the table where she crushed glassware beneath her. The room was spinning around her for a moment and she felt like she had just been thrown out of a window but this was not important right now. She had to stop a likely sociopathic moron who genuinely believed that his actions were just.

In another life, Ur would have been shocked at the metallic taste of blood on her tongue. In this life, she grinned, wiping the red away from her eyes. She had taken hits to the head before and although she felt a little disorientated, it was not enough to throw her off. She broke her own fall and rolled over the table before she jumped to her feet, pulling the shard of the vase out of her arm before she inhaled. She was shorter and did not have the physical strength he had but she was faster and more agile and she was pissed off. The stars were smiling at her as she brushed hair matted with blood out of her face, glaring at the man.

“You know, I liked you a little more when you were still trash talking my co-workers and did not try to kill me,” she said as she rolled her shoulder, frowning at the odd noise they made.

“And I certainly preferred you before you became everyone’s darling,” he replied as he raised an eyebrow. “I’m actually surprised that you didn’t pass out yet.”

“The pain gives me something to hold on to,” she replied as she rolled her shoulders, her eyes focusing on him. She would not let him land another hit because it might very well be the last thing she would ever do because he was serious about killing her. Usually, she was no longer the sort of person to be thrilled at the idea of a fight to the death but she was furious with him. He had deceived her and this was what bothered her most. He had played her, had laughed at her ignorance to his true attentions. And she had missed it because she had not cared enough to look closer. It had been this lack of care what had killed Joan and what had robbed Liam Tempest of his own body – it was all on her.

“I suppose the major drawback of this situation is that if the pain increases, you’ll pass out from it,” he said with a shrug as he attempted to punch her but merely grazed her. “I had actually expected that I’d get to take out Clive and Fullbuster as well … but I suppose that you thought that you could handle me alone.”

She did not reply as she kicked his left leg out from under him. It was amateur-like to have a chat with the opponent and she was a professional. She was patient enough to let this fight unfold, to learn his strengths before taking him down. He was not stronger than her or a better fighter – he just had the advantage of having known that this was about to come while she had not seen this coming.

“Aside from that you should know that I don’t drag others into my messes,” she snapped as she mused how cruel she could allow herself to be with him, considering that he had betrayed her in such an awful way. Well, she would have to kill him – a realisation that was entirely remorseless for her – and she was going to make it painful because all the good people who had bled to death after being shot with one of those horrible bullets had suffered terribly.

Perhaps it was good that she was alone because she doubted that anyone from her team would approve of her idea of bringing Bane to the brink of death a few times before finally killing him – because otherwise, he would never feel the pain Joan and Chres and so many others had felt when they had bled out.

(And god alone knew how much she knew about making someone’s death painful.)

The only person Bane could blame for the pain that was headed his way was himself because no one had told him to suggest making the death of good people a torture.

“I’ll make sure to rely the story of your death to them when I go after them,” he said as he smirked, throwing another vase at her – but this time, her reflexes were fast enough and she dodged without much of a problem … aside from the fact that it annoyed her that he was destroying her possessions like it was some sort of game to him.

(It probably was.)

“You seem to be convinced that you can do me in before I can cross you off,” she said as she raised an eyebrow, grabbing his hand and twisting it with all her might, smiling a satisfied little grin when she heard the unhealthy sound of joints leaving their intended position.

She had not gotten a blood rush in years, not since the assignment when she had gotten into a fight with the target and had had to kill him with no weapon at her disposal aside from a golf cub which had not been her preferred way for it all to go – especially since she had hoped for the _‘or bring him to us alive’_ part of the order to work in her favour.

(Killing had never made her happy although it had never burdened her conscience either.)

Right now, she was getting tempted to make it ugly, to go against all the rules of assassination because she was furious. This was no assignment she had received back in the days when crossing off people had been part of her job, this was fucking personal and she was very keen on making Bane regretting the day he had heard her name, the day he had been stupid enough to make his stupid organisation’s idiotic war again everything she stood for personal for her because people who hurt what she cared for did not die gently.

“Everyone knows that you haven’t killed anyone in years,” he replied and she nearly wanted to laugh at his foolishness because it was not like she had turned into some kind of marshmallow since the last time she had killed someone for another reason than self defence or to defend her team from a hostile person.

“I’d never count on a person’s inability to kill,” she said as she twirled around, her fist colliding with his stomach before she lifted her knee and connected it with his chin. She could not even remember when she had last been angry enough to use her advantage in terms of skill to this degree but then, this whole situation was just as unpleasant as it was new for her – she had never been played to this degree before and in front of her, the last moments of Agent Joan Thomson and those of Agent Chres Vastia were flashes that fuelled her righteous anger.

Someone had once told her that she could be downright calculating at times and she had replied by making a joke out of it, by stating that if she was truly as calculating as people liked to say, she would have become a mathematician. The truth was that she knew fully well what she was doing whenever she was involved in some kind of fight – and there was no room for her to deny it because whenever she struck, she knew which effect this would have and she knew that it would benefit her.

For a brief moment, the realisation that she would have to get her living room fixed once she was done struck her before she focused on her fight again. Bane had been a decent agent – if not for the minor flaw of his treachery – but he was not the kind of person that could be saved; he was the sort that had to be stopped.

 _Permanently_.

But he seemed to have to do the same to her and so when they clashed, he took her by surprise when he did not dodge her blow but rather used the chance to get to get close to her, close enough for him to wrap his hands around her neck and squeeze. Her breath was forced out of her body and panic rose inside of her. She had always thought that suffocating was one of the least pleasant ways to go down – she had hoped for a bullet to the head – and now, it was the way fate had chosen for her.

There was a loud crashing noise as her consciousness slowly faded and she was flung across the room, sliding over the ground before her head collided with a wall and the pain became overwhelming – and then, all was dark.


	18. xviii.

**i want the guts and glory, baby**

* * *

 

The moment Silver’s fist collided with Bane Milkovich’s jaw, the agent felt completely at peace for a reason he did not like to think about. It seemed that out of all the places where his fist could be at this very moment, this one was the most appropriate one and so he smirked as he drew back his hand and struck out again, this time aiming for the man’s stomach. It had been a while since he had gone up against an opponent worth his time – aside from Clive but that guy was a monster when it came to martial arts – and it seemed like Milkovich might be someone he could let his frustration out on. And there was a lot of frustration inside of him – partially because he had not seen this coming. He had not liked Bane Milkovich from the moment their way had crossed but he had thought that he had just copied the resentment both Dreyar and Clive had felt. Or that it had been because Silver had respected Ur from the start – she had been tough and smart – and Milkovich had walked all over her, had disrespected her in her own office, in front of her own team. And although Silver had not exactly been the newcomer of the year when he had first joined the team, he had still been worlds better than the other man.

“Hurts, no?” he asked as he kicked hard, hoping to break the man’s leg but this time, Milkovich managed to evade the attack. “Attacking a woman in her own apartment – _pathetic_.”

“Crushing on the own colleague who is far out of your reach, that’s what I’d call pathetic,” the blond man replied as he threw his own punch with enough force to send Silver backwards.

For a moment, the black-haired agent was taken aback because how on earth did the other man know? It was not like he ran around and talked about it. Actually, the only one who had confirmed information about this silly little crush was Dreyar and Silver had a pretty hard time imagining a world in which the medical examiner willingly told anyone any secrets he kept. And even if someone had tried to get the man to talk, it would have been pointless because Ivan Dreyar would rather die than to betray anyone.

“I mean – she’s pretty and all … but is she worth dying for? I wouldn’t think so,” Milkovich added, his grin lewd in a way that increased the other man’s desire to just kill him.

Silver really wanted to break the man’s neck because he was a liar and a traitor. He really did not want to listen to the man’s ridiculous statements about Ur because it was unnecessary to badmouth her while she was in the best case unconscious and in the worst case dead. It was generally unnecessary to get her involved, this fight was hardly about her – or so Silver liked to tell himself because there was so much more at stake than just one woman’s life.

“It may surprise you to hear this,” Silver said as he threw away his jacket, “but I got my own opinions about all of this … and I think she’s pretty much worth all of this.”

“I was going to offer you a way out, you know?” Milkovich said with a exaggerated sigh before he picked up a vase, throwing it from one hand to the other. “SHELL needs people like you.”

“I doubt it,” Silver said as he briefly gazed over to Ur, relief dwelling up inside of him as he noticed that her hands were clenched to fists now which they had not been before. “I’m not really on board with that whole kill the president and take over the country thing, you see?”

“Such a shame, really,” Bane sighed before he grabbed his hand and twisted it, hissing in pain as his joint returned to where they were supposed to be. “The ice witch really knows her craft … but that doesn’t change that in the end, she is just mortal and even the great must fall.”

“Where I come from,” Silver said as he picked up one of Ur’s scarves to wrap it around his knuckles for this fight would be fist against fist and he wanted to keep himself from getting hurt for no good reason and he could avoid bruised knuckles, “calling someone an ice witch is actually a compliment. Not sure if that’s what you intended it to be.”

“I guess that explains what I couldn’t explain before,” Milkovich said with a smirk before he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. “I was wondering, you know? What on earth possessed her to think you to be attractive, to be worthy of her attention.”

If Silver had not been sure that the man’s brain had been completely fried before, this would have erased all doubts. Bane Milkovich was completely out of it when he seriously believed that he had noticed something Silver had missed. Then, even if he had not just uttered this nonsense, Silver would always doubt the mental state of someone who believed that it was a good idea to go up against an agent while being armed with just one vase.

“And what would that be?” Silver asked as he tied a knot to keep the scarf in place. Milkovich was not quite right in the head when he genuinely believed that he and his equally irrational friends could take over the country with ease. However, it might be entertaining to hear his theory out loud – especially since Silver knew that it would be absolutely foolish.

“You’re from the north,” the blond man said with a shrug, his face contorted into a grin that could only be described as cruel. “Meaning – you have the northern accent … which is basically the only known weakness she ever had. Worked in my favour at least.”

He was not from the north, however. Silver would have recognised the accent of the south everywhere, the way certain syllables were stretched and others were cut short. The sound of the place he had once called home was different and now that he thought about it, while Ur spoke like a girl born and raised in Era most of the time, there was a hint of home in her voice every once in a while, usually when she was tired or angry. And she knew how to skate, too. She was most definitively from the North – Bane Milkovich, however, was not.

Silver did not like it when someone mocked the place he came from like it was some joke or a dark part of hell. It was not. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the north, the place was wonderful. Yes, there was a lot of rain and snow but this was exactly what made the place so nice in his opinion. It was home and sometimes, it was the place he missed most. Once he was done with this mess, he would drive there because he had missed the snowy hills and the clear air.

It had been a while since he had last been there and maybe it was time to go home before he could lose his accent – and no, this was not connected to Ur – and before he forgot how mulled wine tasted when it was prepared authentically. He liked living in Era, it was a wonderful town but it could simply not compare to the calm, sleepy towns he had grown up in.

But sometimes, living in Era seemed like a huge mistake to him because he did feel out of place.

Era was a lively town. It was the place where the most important criminal investigation department had its headquarters and it was where quite a few important enterprises had started out. It was also the country’s biggest and probably richest town.

(Sometimes, he wondered how he managed to pay for his house and everything else.)

But a part of him really wanted to go home. He would take Gray along, taking him to watch some matches of his old team and to eat proper food – food Silver had eaten as a kid, before his parents had died and turned into vague memories. Maybe he would even go skiing – the season for this was about to start. But it required for him to survive the fight and so he had to focus on this.

“You faked the accent,” Silver said as he mused how desperate a man had to be to bank on the fact that a woman held a certain fondness for a specific way of speaking. The answer was easy: very desperate and probably very pathetic as well. But then, this was Bane Milkovich.

“Caught me,” the other man said, his cold eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “It was the most taxing thing I ever had to do … but it was worth it … she was the key into so many places…”

So it was true what Silver had suspected from the moment he had heard that Milkovich was involved: Ur had been deceived, had been manipulated in the worst way possible – and if Deliora had not killed the girl to shatter her emotionally, she might even have married a man who had only pretended to be interested in her so that he could get information his pathetic little organisation needed to crush everything she stood for. This was cruelty at its best.

“…I don’t think I have words to express my disgust for you,” he said after a moment before he moved quickly, landing a punch on the man’s stomach before he moved out of reach again. “Seriously? That’s the worst thing ever.”

The exchange of blows was brutal. Bane Milkovich was in an entirely different league than Mika’s killer, he could put up an actual fight and he was rather set on doing exactly that. The fight was one Silver might lose if he was not careful enough and he knew this. If Clive had been the one to go up against the slimy bastard, he would have floored his opponent within seconds but Silver was not cut of the same cloth as his partner. He did not have fists made of steel, he was just human and it hurt him when he took a punch.

It made sense that Ur had been able to fare against him relatively well because she had spent a good deal of her second career at NAHA fighting against people who were stronger than her and she had had the advantage of her speed and the fact that it took a lot of pain for her to react to it as Dreyar had once mentioned in an off-handed matter. Silver was slower and he did not share her inhuman ability to ignore pain. Although, it was certainly something interesting because if she was genuinely able to withstand pain this well, it meant that she was a worthy opponent. Perhaps, one day, if they both survived, he would ask her to spar against him.

“And your righteous anger,” Milkovich said as he hurled the vase at Silver, sending him backwards again, “is hilarious to me because … you simply can’t get over it, right?”

For a moment, Silver prayed that Ur would be still unconscious because she really was not supposed to listen to what was surely to come. Milkovich had to die for many reasons. For example, he knew far too much about Silver and he was a man who liked to keep his secrets.

“Then I’m happy for you because you’ll die laughing,” he said as he gritted his teeth, rubbing his shoulder where the vase had hit him. He was, frankly, rather done with Milkovich but aside from shooting him or breaking his neck, there was no way for him to take the man down. And to start a gunfight meant to make noise which would attract attention. And this was something he would try to avoid because it would make it messier than necessary.

“I bet I can get into your head, just like I got into hers,” Milkovich said as he dodged Silver’s blow with dancelike grace which looked rather ridiculous. “She didn’t like me reminding her that she hasn’t crossed off anyone in quite some time, you know?”

“Only that you won’t get me so easily,” Silver replied as he mused whether the man’s word had indeed been able to get Ur to lose focus for long enough to be knocked out. If this was indeed what had happened, he would have to be on his guard because he could be provoked easily when he was aggravated – this was what the past had shown, at least.

“Did you ever pick her up from her favourite bar after she had a few drinks too many?” the blond man asked as he reached for the next vase. For some reason, he was very focused on destroying as many vases as possible which was a disturbing idea. “Or wait – you strike me as the kind of guy who goes out himself, drinks to forget something but after five drinks, you want to call her.”

“I actually don’t think you’ll ever learn what is really happening,” Silver said as he went in for his last attack, sending the man to the ground just when Ur who had gotten back to her feet although she seemed to be in pain made her move and although she staggered, her elbow was in place, catching the blond man before she wrapped her arm around his neck and squeezed – and did not let go as he trashed, her eyes colder than ice.

Then, when the man was dead, she collapsed and would have fallen but Silver was fast enough to catch her and to help her to sit down on the couch where she glared at the chaos in the living room. “Ouch,” she muttered, her voice oddly slurred and her pronunciation slightly off as well. “This _hurts_.”

“Given the circumstance that your ex-fiancé just tried to kill you, how are you?” he asked as he rubbed his cheek where he had suffered quite some damage because the bastard had been wearing a ring.

She was breathing hard as she rubbed her ribs, flinching as she pulled a shard of glass out of her arm. “I am tired,” she said awkwardly, as if her speech centre had been damaged when she had hit the wall and passed out. “And I need to … think, I guess.”

He reached out and rubbed blood off her cheek before he noted the line of red that came trickling down her forehead. “You got a head injury,” he said as he followed the blood to find the gash on her head. “That’ll need medical attention.”

“Don’t wanna,” she muttered as she rubbed her head while she relaxed and entirely ignored her phone that was ringing loudly. “Wanna sleep. And shower.”

It seemed like she was really out of it and he had learned the hard way that it would be wrong to let her fall asleep because it might be the last sleep she would ever get and he really did not want this. And so he pulled her back to her feet and dragged her into the kitchen to pour her a glass of ice cold water. “Drink up,” he said and she glared at him before she obeyed.

“I really don’t get why Clive keeps saying that you’re unreasonable,” he said as he opened the drawer where he knew the first kit to be because he had helped her looking for it after her cousin had misplaced about everything in her apartment when she had been relocated.

She blinked twice before she rolled her eyes. “Suppose so,” she said as she shrugged and reached for the glass again before she winced. “I feel like a porcupine.”

He rolled his eyes before he handed her the first aid kit. “A very pretty porcupine,” he said as he faced away from her and as she did not react, he frowned because it was not like her to ignore people – unless she was focusing on something and judging from the way she was glancing at the equipment, it was probably more interesting than him right now which might be connected to the fact that it had the actual power of easing her pain.

“…could you maybe call Gildarts?” she asked quietly and for a moment, her hand quivered. “I need a moment … and a shower … I want to get all of this blood off me.”

It was mostly her own but this did not mean that it was pleasant and he understood this so he mentioned for her to leave before he reached for his phone, noticing how she swayed when she walked towards the door. “Ur,” he called out and this time, she had no excuse for not hearing him aside from being in far more pain than she admitted. So he grabbed her shoulder and turned her around, a sigh escaping him. “Your phone is ringing.”

She paled and for a moment, her eyes flickered over to where the offensive device was located before an expression of surrender crossed her face. “Suppose you caught me, then,” she muttered as she mentioned towards her ears. “Can’t hear anything at the moment. It’s probably temporary but … can’t take any calls.”

He stared at her for a moment, not even blinking as the thought struck how on earth she had been able to give usually correct and fitting replies to his statements when she had not heard a single word he had said. “…lip-reading,” he said after a moment as the realisation followed.

“Required class for agents of NAHA who want to be promoted higher than level ka-kappa,” she said, briefly stumbling over the word, as she shrugged before she added. “I was level epsilon.”

This meant that Clive could do the same and that Silver had to be very careful what he did when he was around them. And this was surely why no one had told him about it before, it would put him into a state where he would be on his guard all the time. It was surely a useful skill to have and he had taken similar classes in the past but he had forgotten more than he had ever learned about it. Or so it sometimes felt to him.

He sighed, ruffling his hair before he mentioned towards her phone that was still blaring out some cheery melody. “I’ll, uh, take that call for you, yes?” he offered awkwardly.

“You can’t tell them that I can’t hear,” she said as she wrapped her hand around his wrist that was still covered by her scarf. “Promise me that you won’t. I don’t want to take another break.”

“The things I do for you…” he muttered as he nodded swiftly before he turned away from her and once he was sure that she could no longer see his face or read his lips, he continued his sentence. “Seriously, you should be happy that I like you more than I should.”

* * *

**can you tell me what was ever really special about me all this time?**

* * *

 

Ur was acting rather off when Gildarts finally got away from the press and to his ex-partner. She was resting on the couch, eyes trained onto the news channel and her forehead forming a frown. Around her, agents of Lamia in neat black suits were cleaning up the battlefield. Milkovich had not gone down without one hell of a fight and this was the only explanation for the way the both black-haired agents looked. Nearly the entirety of visible skin on Ur’s body was covered in bandages or band-aid while Fullbuster had a gash on his cheek and a bruise forming beneath his eye.

Whatever had happened, it had been physically taxing on both of them. He hoped that they had suffered no emotional damage because this would take so much longer to heal. Thankfully, they were both cold as ice and could easily build emotional distance to an event or a person when it was getting too personal.

A part of Gildarts was feeling nothing but pride as he looked at his fellow specialists because although they were exhausted and injured, they were at peace. Ur was not pacing around for a chance, she was not waiting for something horrible to happen. Fullbuster had one eye closed and was pressing an ice bag to his shoulder, not caring that he admitted to having been injured in a fight that should have been easy for both of them.

(It would take weeks for Gildarts to dig through the files about the man and for him to learn that Bane Milkovich had been stronger than everyone had expected him to be.)

But what really struck Gildarts and surprised him was the way they were not bickering at all. The red-haired agent had often realised that the silence was a long and hard fight was the hardest to bear because the adrenaline was still in the blood, singing songs of past days, battles long fought (some won, some lost) and making it hard to just calm down. Some of his old colleagues at NAHA had claimed that it was impossible to snap out of it all at once, that it was necessary to bicker a bit and to let the adrenaline escape slowly.

But maybe they were too at peace with themselves to start fights that were pointless. It would be something Gildarts would highly approve of because he preferred a peaceful environment over a warzone and if his team – and it was his team – would be a group of friends rather than a bunch of too strong personalities bound together, it would be easier.

“You two look like you head one hell of a party going on,” Gildarts said as he leaned against the fireplace, smirking at them both because it had been quite some time since he had seen either of them in a similar state of injury and fatigue.

“Wasn’t really a party,” Ur mumbled, eyes full of exhaustion and her voice betraying this fatigue as well. “More like … a date with the murderous ex, you know? Not so much fun.”

“But you’re alive,” Gildarts replied as he looked over his shoulder where silent Lamia agents were working on returning the living room into its usual state. “You look like you wrestled with a porcupine, seriously. What has happened to you, Lund?”

She scoffed before her lips curled into a warm smile. “Bastard threw me straight into the table with my glassware,” she explained with a shrug, “and that was something that hurt. A lot.”

“You took him out, I suppose,” Gildarts said although he had already thought so from the start. Ur would never have allowed herself to come to peace when someone who had tried to kill her was still alive and even if she would allowed Milkovich to get away with his life, Fullbuster would not have shown the same mercy. And this was probably better that way because once, Gildarts would have done exactly the same. But he could no longer be this person and so he needed to keep the black-haired man around – to be the one Gildarts was once upon a time, in another world.

There was wariness in Ur’s eyes as she stretched, flinching when she upset a minor wound, and then, she struggled to remember how she had been seated that it had not hurt. Finally, she settled for leaning her back against Fullbuster’s side, facing Gildarts and fighting back a yawn and maybe another pained hiss.

“I expected the fallout to be far worse,” she admitted quietly, her exhaustion slurring her words. “He nearly got me … that hasn’t happened in such a long time…”

Under different circumstances, Gildarts would have called her out on the sheer idiocy of facing someone who was as dangerous as the man who had betrayed his agency and his country without a proper weapon. If it had been him, this would have been a situation where he would have gone and put a bullet through the man’s skull the moment he had been informed about his true intentions. However, it seemed like Ur had allowed herself to take it personal – and this had been where she had gone wrong.

But Gildarts was in no mood for fights with either his partner or the woman who had been his partner once. It had been a long few weeks for him as well and he had been missing out on far too much to just pretend that it had never happened. He wanted, he realised, a calmer life. Maybe not complete retirement but before long, he would be forty and this was when his body would begin to become less and less reliable, when he might start to mess up.

And then, he would be bound to some desk which was a job that had driven people far more patient than him up the wall and so he did not exactly look forward to this future. He needed something else in his life, he decided. Something that did not require jumping around, did not consist of crawling through the dirt to look for things. He knew that if he left, his team would get over it. Ur was not even thirty yet, the fear of being too old for her job was something she did not share. Dreyar was usually down in the morgue, the man was no field agent in the first place and had just gotten dragged into the mess. And then, Fullbuster who would probably be an agent until the day a bullet would be faster than him and rip him out of his own life – and this would make Ur sad.

(Another person she cared about who left before she got the chance to express how much she truly cared about him, another drop in the endless ocean of her guilt.)

He really should quit his job at ECID, he decided, or he might be the one catching a bullet and never getting up afterwards. And there was no way that he would become the burden to drag Ur down for the rest of her life.

Ironically, to make the decision did not feel especially liberating. It felt entirely normal, like it was merely the next logical step. And maybe this was accurate, maybe this had been supposed to be his path right from the start. It would be difficult to explain to the others, especially to the director but then, Babasama was just a person in the end and she was not going to make him stay when all he wanted to do was to run away as far as possible.

They said that everything should end when it was still pretty and maybe this was what he was meant to do, to let it come to an end while he could still stand the people he worked with.

On the other hand, there was the matter of what he would do afterwards. He was not Ur who could go back to being an architect the moment she quit at ECID or Dreyar who could find work at every smaller criminal department all over the country. He had a pretty specific skill set and he had never really considered what he would do once he no longer was an agent, once his active career was a faraway memory.

He would have to talk with his superiors, maybe he could be transferred to a calmer area where he would no longer get involved with matters of national security because although he still had the necessary tenacity to handle jobs of great importance, he was feeling it in his bones. Maybe this was the difference between him and Ur, that she was three and a half years younger than him and that she had still the nerve to bounce back from everything quickly while it was dragging him down and down, a bit more every time it happened.

For a moment, he looked at her without saying anything and tried to imagine how she would react to him leaving, if she would understand or if she would be upset with him. On the one hand, she was friends with the both other members of their team. On the other hand, they had been working together for a very long time and for him to leave meant to end matters.

“He tried to strangle you,” Gildarts said quietly, remembering that this was one of Ur’s biggest fears and that someone as cruel as Milkovich would certainly have aimed for this. And there were marks around her neck, marks that could not be explained with anything else.

“Of course,” she replied as she shrugged, a sigh escaping her as she shook her head.

“I still think you should rest up,” Fullbuster remarked drily as he got up from the couch, moving away quickly before he turned around to face her again. “Maybe you should sleep a bit … your cousin gave you quite a few painkillers, time to get them out of your system.”

So they had gotten Jacob Lund to patch them up. Gildarts briefly regretted that he had not been there to watch this scene; the blond man was not exactly known to be gentle and tender when he was stuck with piecing ‘morons who aren’t careful enough to do anything’ back together and it was doubtful that he had been nice to Ur just because they shared blood.

“I just might,” she replied as she shrugged, hissing as the movement upset her wounded shoulder. “And thanks for saving me when he caught me. I appreciate it, a lot.”

“Couldn’t have you dying on my watch,” Fullbuster replied with an ironic bow. “Now, time to pick Gray up at Layla’s and go through her scolding. Mind if I make it sound more dramatic?”

“Just be careful or she will scold me, too,” Ur replied as she rested her head against a pillow. “And my ears are still ringing from the last time that has happened.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he said and then, he was gone before Gildarts could tell him about the press conference that would take place rather soon although it would be the official version of the events that had occurred rather than the truth but this was probably for the better.

Ur then turned her head to look at Gildarts, her eyes narrowed slightly as she patted the space on the couch next to her. “You’re leaving,” she said quietly and there was no accusation in her voice, just the understanding a part of him had counted on from the start. “You aren’t going to NAHA … you go civilian,” she added and it sounded like it was nearly a joke to her to imagine him as a civilian.

“Don’t hate me for his,” he said as he reached for her hand and grasped it tightly. “It was an amazing time … it was great to work with you and everything but…”

“You don’t have to justify yourself, Gil,” she replied softly as she shrugged. “We have worked together for an awfully long time, it’s time to bring this era to a fitting end.”

She was right and he knew it. It had been years since either of them had worked entirely independent from the other and in a way, they had been mere steps away from becoming co-dependent. Even when she had not been his partner, they had maintained their old schedule they had first took up when they still had been agents of NAHA, the schedule that had been close to scared for both of them.

“You’ll probably be reassigned,” he said as he traced the veins on her wrist where he could feel her pulse, the proof that her heart was still beating – and just then, the realisation slowly sank in, the realisation how close to had come to having to bury her as well.

“Yes,” she said as she nodded ever so slightly, nearly as if she was reading his mind. “I’ll see if I can get Fullbuster as a partner … we might make a pretty good team.”

“You need to stop being reckless, then,” Gildarts said as he marvelled at her understanding for his decision. “Otherwise, you’ll get the two of you killed one day.”

“Is it really your part to lecture me about caution?” she asked with a huff while her lips were still curled into a smile. “And I think you picked a good moment, really. There’s no use in pretending that everything is the same still when, well, it has changed.”

“We were good together,” he said as he reached out to ruffle her hair before he remembered her head injury. “We came so far, now it’s time to … I don’t even know … become more.”

“If you really go, I’ll call you all the time to ask you for input,” she warned as she pressed her fingertips against his pulse. “…and if you get yourself killed in your civilian life…”

“No worries, Ur, I’m not entirely helpless without you,” he said although this was probably not the truth because ever since he had been fourteen and she had become his lab partner for some science class, he had not really known a life where she was not somehow pulling the strings on the sidelines, making it easier for him to do his thing because she was handling the finer matters. He remembered the Crocus assignment that had nearly killed her with a light shudder, remembered how he had told her that she had to survive because it could not be that one of them would have to bury the other.

She rolled her eyes at him but kept the snide remark to herself which made him remember that she was only human in the end and while she enjoyed to make fun out of serious situations to unblock her head, it was also very much like her not to share all her thoughts with him because she kept some aces in her sleeves for future exploits.

* * *

**your last chance at a better reality**

* * *

Her hearing was back to normal when she woke up the next, well, afternoon from Lyon jumping up and down on her bed. This meant that she had recovered it faster which implied that damage had been not quite as extensive as she had first thought. At the same time, she nearly wished that she was still unable to hear because Lyon was loud and she had a headache that was certainly the worst headache in the history of headaches. And even this was barely scratching the surface of the pain she felt because every fibre hurt for some reason.

“Ur, Ur, Ur!” Lyon yelled as he jumped again, getting dangerous close to landing on her. “You need to wake up, I made breakfast for you!”

She then decided that she would kill her cousin because as Jacob lived downstairs, she had told him to maintain a sense of normality for Lyon while she rested up and it was not normal for Lyon to make breakfast for her. On the other hand, it was heartbreakingly kind of Lyon to make breakfast for her, especially since Ur could barely remember the last tome someone had done this for her.

Perhaps it had been Gildarts after Crocus, after she had nearly bled to death, after she had nearly resigned to death because survival had seemed so very unlikely for her at this time.

Gildarts, she mused as she rose and wrapped the blanket around herself as she followed Lyon down the hallway to the kitchen. He was truly going to leave and after all those years, it still took her by surprise although she had nearly hoped for this outcome for so long. It would be the best for both of them but this did not mean that it would not hurt a little, that it would not take some time to get used to.

“Thank you, Lyon,” she said as she sat down on her favourite chair, looking at the bowl of cereals with the fruits. She found herself smiling because they had run out of strawberries the day before and she had been on her way to the store to get some new ones when Bane had arrived so Lyon had probably gone there on his own to get them for her.

“Thank you,” she said as she reached out, ruffling his hair before she grabbed the spoon. “Now, how was school today? – Don’t tell me that you got Jake to let you stay at home.”

The boy huffed as if the mere accusation was completely ridiculous. “Of course I went to school,” he said as he rolled his eyes before he pushed the glass of orange juice into her direction, along with the tray of medicine. “It was, well, school. Nothing special. Only, we got a new student.”

“In the middle of the year?” she asked as she raised her eyebrow, swallowing the assortment of painkillers. There were people she would fight over them but not Lyon who had once claimed that she did not have to be the strongest person ever for him, that all he needed was her to be her. That these words had nearly made her cry was something they did not talk about, ever, because it had mortified them both.

“That’s really odd, right?” he asked as he looked for her, blue eyes shining and happy because she was listening to him. “So I invested the matter, of course.”

“Investigated,” she corrected briefly before she went back to listening.

“ _Investigated_ , then,” he said as he bowed his head before he continued. “He says his name’s Natsu and he’s a bit of a prat if you ask me.”

Natsu was a name that was familiar to Ur because she had worked with the boy’s father back in the days – which translated into _‘had cleaned up Igneel’s messes while cursing his name’_. To be short, Igneel’s name had been on top of the list of agents who should never have been allowed to produce offspring as far as she was concerned. And so she sighed as she nodded. “I think the ‘prat’ gene runs in the family,” she said as she poured coffee into her cup.

“You know his family?” Lyon asked, his gaze wide and bright, obviously very interested.

“His father,” she replied with a shrug before she raised an eyebrow which hurt more than she would have thought could be possible. “He and I used to work together at NAHA.”

And this would have been easier for her if Igneel had been able to stop calling her ‘Clive’s girl’ whenever he had seen the chance or if the man had known better than to constantly get himself into trouble on days when she had been tasked with extraction duty – which was an assignment she had liked to call babysitter duty because that was more fitting.

“…that sounds interesting,” the boy muttered and she sighed, finishing her meal and her coffee before she leaned back in her chair, a smile on her face which certainly looked odd as she was sporting multiple injuries on her face as well. And then, although she probably should call someone from her team to inform them that she was still alive and to ask for further information on how they were going to proceed from this point onwards, she talked about the more interesting – and less gory and non-classified – missions of the past. Lyon was an attentive listener and the questions he asked were interesting and made her think about things she had taken for granted for years.

They talked through the afternoon and well into the early evening and she was about to get started on dinner when the doorbell rung. A frown crossed her face and she furrowed her brows because she was not expecting any visitors.

She moved through the apartment with silent steps, reaching for one of the guns that her vicious ex-fiancé had taken out the day before and which she had returned into a useful state while she had been waiting for Gildarts to show up, chatting with Silver as well as it had been possible, considering her trouble with hearing, trouble that had been shock-induced in her opinion.

(The next thing she would do was to scold the building’s owner about security matters – but this was surely a moot point as Bane had probably used his badge to access the building.)

(This was what she would have done, at least, what each and any self-respecting law enforcement officer would have done although it meant to overstep their boundaries.)

But the visitor was no new killer of SHELL, it was her team along with whatever child or significant other they happened to have at their disposal. Cornelia Alberona was a bit pale and nervous while Roxanne Dreyar was smirking but it was her team, the family she had chosen.

“Suppose I win the bet,” Silver said with a smug smirk as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I told them that you’d think someone would come to cross you off. They didn’t listen to me.”

“I brought wine,” Roxanne said after the awkward pause was overbearing for a moment, “but I suppose that you won’t get to drink any of that, Agent Lund.”

A part of her was slightly bothered by the way everyone seemed to know that she had listened to her doctor’s advice and taken the medicine without much of a fight but then, Gildarts had seen her at her lowest once before, he had learned when to ignore her claims that she was alright when in truth, everything and even more was hurting, when pain caused her to come apart on the seams, to fall apart a little. So he must have guessed it, must have known that she would be under medication and he probably had mentioned when he had talked to Ivan’s wife; her ex-partner had never known when to keep his mouth shut after all. And for once, it did not bother her – much – that he had told on her, that he had shared her secret with someone else because it was not much of a secret in the first place and paled in comparison to quite a few other things she had kept from others in the past.

Ur rolled her eyes at this form of address before she put down the gun and stepped to the side, allowing them to enter. “I’ll kick everyone who calls me Agent Lund out,” she warned as she turned around, calling out to Lyon who made a hesitant appearance in the doorframe. “Sorry, kiddo, but you’ll have to share your toys with Gray and Laxus. I hope you don’t mind?”

And people had said that she would fail at parenting. How ridiculous, she had always managed to get things right when she had to get them right. She could not even remember the last time she had not managed to rise to the occasion, when the world had slipped through between her fingers and she had just stared.

“I don’t mind,” Lyon muttered as he dragged the both other boys into his room. “But remember to call me for dinner; wouldn’t want to miss it for anything in the whole world.”

“Yes, Lyon, I know,” she said as she smiled at him before he disappeared in his room. “Dragneel’s brat is in his class now … being an arrogant fool seems to run in the family.”

“Didn’t he make it first place on your list of agents to never produce offspring?” Gildarts asked as he raised an eyebrow, brushing past her on his way to the kitchen.

For a moment, she felt a rush of relief that she could hear again because she would never have been able to get it past Gildarts and Ivan, especially not when so many people were around. “You know,” she replied, raising her voice a little, “I might have to update the list soon.”

It was a little awkward for her to act like nothing had changed when she knew that he was about to quit. A part of her had been happy the evening before that she had not been able to hear his voice when he had informed her about this decision because she probably would have cried. To just read it from his lips had been different, had been easier for her. She had been able to rationalise it instantly, had skipped the stage where she tried to make a bargain although the result was rather inevitable.

But it was easy for her to play the role of the good friend because this was what she had been again and again in days of the past. She had been Gildarts’ friend before she had been his partner. She had listened to his girl trouble’s long before she had dragged his bleeding body out of burning buildings. And maybe this had been the most beautiful realisation, that the friendship they had shared had never quite left them, that it had been merely a phoenix that had burned and that had waited patiently for to right moment to be reborn from the ashes of its own previous existence.

“Oh, c’mon,” he said with the same carelessness he had shown back in the days when his pranks had been things like hiding her text books from her when she really needed them. In a way, it was a peaceful way of falling back to the people they used to be before everything else.

“I’ll show you the updated list,” she said, unsure whether or not he had told everyone else what he had told her, unsure if she was keeping yet another secret for him.

“You might have to mail it to me,” he replied with a tiny nod and she knew that he had told the others about his departure and this eased her mind because she did not have to worry about it as much now; there was no way she could spill his secret in his place.

“Oh, I will,” she said as she stretched, ignoring the pain before she mentioned towards the kitchen door. “Um, welcome in my house. I didn’t really count on visitors tonight, honestly.”

“I said that, _too_ ,” Silver muttered with a nearly childish grin before he smirked down at her. “You look like you slept considerably more last night than I did.”

“Jake got me the good stuff,” she replied with a shrug before she smirked back at him. “The sort of stuff that knocks you out for hours … and that makes me feel funny.”

It was rare for her to require painkillers because her tolerance was high as long as her blood was laced with adrenaline. This meant, of course, that she could force herself to get up again and again – until the point that her body was in a state that made any movement impossible. It was reckless and wrong of her and she knew this. She knew that she should learn to let herself fall, to rely on others more. There were a lot of good people in the agency, people who would be willed to help her with her fights. But she came with a reputation for being stubborn, for refusing help – and so most people did not even ask if she needed some help anymore. She did not mind this. It did not matter how much better she was with a decent partner, she was still good on her own.

“The next time I get hurt, I’ll get him to give me the same stuff,” he said while his eyebrow formed an elegant arc on his forehead. “How’s the head?”

“Doesn’t hurt as bad as it did yesterday and it’s fully functional again,” she replied with a slight nod to reply to the question he could not ask out loud because it was a secret. She appreciated his quick thinking and his skill to remember which questions he should not blurt out loud because this would get her into quite some trouble with Gildarts and Ivan.

“That’s good to hear,” he replied with a grin. “Wouldn’t want to get a new partner who isn’t up to speed once my treacherous current partner ditches me for the countryside.”

“Oh, no worries, I’ll make sure that I’m in top condition when Gil leaves,” Ur replied as she did not roll her eyes for a chance which took quite some self-restrain from her.

“I heard the _finally_ in your voice, Ur, don’t you think that I didn’t,” the other agent called from the kitchen but there was laughter and happiness in her voice and she had to smile. Yes, it was the best possible course of action for him to leave the team, for him to start over new somewhere where he did not have to carry her burdens on his shoulders – along with his own.

“Oh, c’mon, Gil, you know that you will miss me terribly when you’re gone,” she replied as she smiled as well before she nodded at the rest of her guests. “Ah, I apologise for not having cleaned or anything, I just didn’t count on anyone visiting me,” she said as she shrugged.

“Don’t stress yourself over this … Ur,” Cornelia said after a brief moment of hesitation, her smile genuine and warm. “We didn’t call ahead … someone said that it wouldn’t be necessary.”

“Because if we had warned her, she might have said no,” Ivan said as he shrugged, wrapping one arm around his wife. “So, here we are … and we brought wine which you can’t drink.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes at them all before she opened the sideboard to get wine glasses for the rest of the group. “You know, I’m happy that you didn’t bring any flowers … quite a few vases broke yesterday,” she said as she placed the glasses on the table in the kitchen before she looked over her shoulder at Silver. “Which reminds me … how’s the shoulder?”

“He had a mean throw, seriously, but I’ve had it worse,” he replied before he poked her side. “My, this concern for my wellbeing nearly makes me think that you care, after all.”

“Well, you’ll end up as my new partner so I’m contractually obliged to care about your health,” she replied smoothly, her face even and although her facial expression was still kind, it was not too friendly because if she would let it slip that she cared a lot, someone might comment on it. Gildarts and Ivan would both know better but she was not sure how it would be if Roxanne or Cornelia would notice what was happening because this might easily lead to an awkward scene.

“Well said, well said,” Ivan said with sarcastic applause before he carefully patted her shoulder. “It’ll be boring for you without having someone to boss around.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Ur said as her grin grew on her face. “I’ll make it my mission to make your life and Silver’s a living hell if you think you could get fresh with me.”

And this was not a threat, this was a promise. She would have to assess an entirely new position because although she would hate it, she would have to represent their team to the outside as the one in command – and frankly, she would certainly hate this aspect just as much as Gildarts had hated it because everything where she had to give commands was something that made her uncomfortable because to assume authority just because of a rank was vastly different from doing so because of having demonstrated leadership skills in the past. If she had gotten through with her request to have Agent Marvell – who had been newly promoted to level 4 – as a partner, she would have gladly signed over all leadership privileges to the other woman because everyone knew that when it came to unexpected situations, Grandine Marvell thrived because there was no one who handled it quite as calmly as her. She would have made an excellent addition to her team but as she was an agent of Lamia, she had to remain with her current team.

“I bet we’ll beg for you to come back before Christmas,” Silver said as he looked at Gildarts who had sat down at the table, handing his fiancée’s hands. “She’ll boss us all around.”

“Here goes some insider knowledge,” the red-haired agent said with a wide grin as he winked at Ur, “she’ll be more … agreeable when you turn in your paperwork on time.”

“And try not to get shot, she’ll hate that,” Ivan added as he pulled back the chair for his wife, ever the gentleman. “She’ll yell if you nearly get yourself killed; it’s how she shows fondness.”

She grimaced for more than one reason. Ivan knew exactly how she reacted when someone got shot on her watch because he had the mistake of taking a bullet once. Usually, she would have thought that a medical examiner was as far away from the line of fire as humanly possible but she had been wrong about this once and sometimes, in the rare event that she dreamed of the past, she still saw it in front of her and it was terrifying for her because she had been supposed to keep him safe while he had investigated a crime scene and then, she had been distracted for less than a second – but it had been long enough for him to be shot.

“Suppose I should avoid getting shot then,” Silver said with a grin before he raised an eyebrow and his grin turned into something that made her unsure on how she was supposed to feel about it. “Or would you patch me up? Because if you would, I’d rethink matters again.”

She kicked him under the table, her lips curled into her prettiest, nicest and most innocent smile. “You should ask Ivan about getting medical treatment from me, once,” she said as she reached for her water glass. “I’m sure that you wouldn’t like the descriptions.”

“True,” Roxanne said, mirth in her grey-blue eyes, eyes that shared the colour of Ivan’s favourite bowtie. “I saw the stitches she gave Ivan – it was just functional.”

Ur threw back her head as she laughed because although the memory to the day she had had no choice but to overcome her problem with needles and stitch the medical examiner up was a painful one, she could laugh about it now because it was all in the past. “Oh, c’mon, Roxanne,” she said amused. “Considering that he survived and that I never did it before and was under fire, I did an okay job.”

“Plus, you like the scar, dear,” Ivan added with a grin as his wife started to blush crimson. “So you probably should thank Ur, you know? For leaving behind a pretty awesome scar.”

“Oh, you are such a cruel man, Ivan!” the blonde said as she hit his arm. “You’re awful!”

* * *

**my mind is muddy but my heart is heavy, does it show?**

* * *

 

The office after Gildarts Clive’s departure was a place where Ivan did not feel quite as comfortable as he had beforehand. It was not like he was missing the red-haired agent who had been transferred to a calmer place where he would run a whole department and finally get to the settle down. The office after Clive was an awkward place because the man’s presence was still very much there for weeks, even after Ur had gone out of her way to get rid of everything that had belonged to him, even after Fullbuster had somewhere tracked down new things – silly things, things that were simply pointless – to fill the space that had been left.

(Even after they had gotten the confirmation that they would finally get a new fourth man.)

They were all trying to fill the gap but it was hard; Gildarts Clive had been the heart of the team, just like Ur was its soul, Fullbuster its fists and Ivan himself the brain of the entire team.

The office was silent and Ivan felt like he was intruding on something. Ur was sitting on her desk, arms crossed over her chest and her complete body rigid. Fullbuster sat, in an act of silent rebellion, on Clive’s desk and was staring at Ur who was looking at him like she was not quite sure how she was going to proceed. It was hardly the first time this had occurred and it would not be the last, either. After all, it would take some time to figure out how the dynamics in the team had shifted. Ur was still the highest-ranking agent on board but she had never been one to pull rank over anyone and even if she would be willed to do so, Fullbuster was no part of her chain of command – which, in fact, came down to some young agents who were working in another town.

Ivan doubted that Ur had seen them in the past two-and-a-half years because this would have required for her to drive there to give them orders and he could not see her doing something like this; it was entirely against who she had been for such a long time.

But without relying on the normal structure in teams, they had a lot of figuring out to do and although Clive had handled matters similarly to Ur all along, he had had a different assignment when he had first been assigned to be Fullbuster’s partner. And this assignment had been to teach the newcomer how the world was ran in ECID and what was expected of him. Ur was going to do something else, she needed a different kind of partner: she needed someone who could handle the parts she could not handle because of her lack of physical strength.

“Good morning, Ivan,” she greeted without turning her head, without interrupting whatever staring contest she had going on with her new partner right now.

“Ur, Fullbuster,” the medical examiner replied as he hang his coat over his chair and sat down on the couch, switching on his tablet. “What are you two fighting over this time around?”

It had been three weeks since Clive had left and against Ivan’s first hunch, he nearly wanted the red-haired man to come back. He had left a gap when he had left Era to work in a peaceful little police department in the West, in some little town called King Protea, and it was unsure how the rest of the team was ever going to fill this gap again because although everyone had supported his decision, it took some time to get used to.

“We aren’t fighting,” Ur said as she threw her new partner one last glare before she turned around, her fingers dancing over the keyboard before she sent the details of their next assignment to Ivan’s tablet. “We were discussing this … what’s your first impression?”

He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the way both agents were staring at him, their anticipation more or less visible. “…insider job,” he said as he flicked through the pages. “Or better said: this is based on someone using insider information. Could be an insider or someone who pressures an insider into giving information.”

“Dreyar, you are a horrible tie breaker,” Fullbuster declared as he crossed his arms behind his head once again. “I’m telling you, Bambi, it’s an insider. It would make more sense.”

“And we ran background checks on all of them and they are clean,” she replied as she reached for her coffee, taking a sip. “So we need to think out of the box – that’s your strength.”

“And it’s nothing I can do on command like I’m a robot,” he replied as he closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Okay, let’s think about this … who benefits from this whole thing?”

“How very law school of you to ask,” she muttered as she went through her files, the line between her eyebrows ever growing. “Okay, we have the option of the ex-wife. She’s still the sole heir and would have had access to basically everything because … she is also still his secretary … what sort of logic is that?”

Fullbuster smirked at her as he opened his left eye. “That she is either one hell of a secretary or that their … relationship isn’t quite as professional as she told the agents who were at the scene,” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows, making it quite obvious what he was implying.

“You’re incorrigible,” she muttered, her voice exasperate, as she rolled her eyes at him.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, Bambi, if the wind turns, they’ll get stuck,” the man replied with a wide grin, obviously set on annoying her to the point that she would sent him out to get coffee or leave the office herself. Both had happened about nine times already and it was amusing to all the agents who worked on the same floor and who had started a betting pool regarding the question how much longer it would take before one of them would finally crack and just gather the courage and make a move – because by now, it was slowly getting very ridiculous.

Ivan was usually the last one to notice it when two people shared some sort of romantic attraction and even he had long caught on. He would even argue that he had been the first one to see it because it took someone who knew Ur quite well to be able to read the tiny little signs she gave from time to time when she was interested in someone.

“You’re hopeless,” Ur said as she emptied her cup of coffee and crossed her arms again, her lips pressed together. “But let’s go with the ex-wife as a possible suspect for a moment … only, damn, she got a water-proof alibi for the time of the death … one that has been checked already.”

“I nearly think the alibi is a bit too perfect,” Fullbuster said as he bit his lip, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the file again, his voice not quite as self-assured as usual because he was trading on thin ice now. “She has proof that covers her location for three hours, _consecutively_. There isn’t one gap … not sure about you but I usually don’t do things in a row that give me a perfect alibi.”

“Always said that I’d spent so much time on my own that if I was ever falsely accused of murder, I’d have one hell of a problem,” Ivan muttered as he looked him, his eyes trained on Ur who was glaring at the folder in front of her, her face dark and seemingly pensive. “What are you thinking, almighty leader?” he teased.

“That Silver is right and that something’s wrong here,” she said as she got up, shaking her freshly-cut hair and reaching for her scarf. “And that whoever questioned her is a goddamn idiot. Silver, it’s time for a field trip. We’ll question her again.”

In another life, in one where Ivan would not know that Ur had been a student of his mother, he would have slightly disapproved. In this life where he was well informed about her training, he did not approve at all. He lifted his gaze from his tablet and shook his head at her. “You can’t do that to a civilian,” he hissed. Ur had messed with heads of people as smart as her and none of them had walked away unscathed. For her to do the same with a woman who was hardly a terrorist or a threat for the national security seemed awfully wrong.

“Have I ever used a technique on a civilian when I was not convinced that it was the only possible way of handling it?” she asked as she continued her preparation for the assignment. There was her badge which she had clipped to her belt right before she checked the ammunition of her gun and reached for her gloves.

“You can’t deny that you still got NAHA mannerisms inside of you and that you have a very hard time snapping out of this when you’re in the zone,” Fullbuster said as he followed her example – minus the scarf and the gloves which were mandatory winter equipment for field agents. “But hey, you’re the boss now. So it’s your call … any nasty interrogation techniques you’d like to try out?”

Ivan groaned inwardly because the last thing his life needed right now was an Ur who was encouraged to use the skills she had attained and honed along the past. It was the general idea of a nightmare because although she had never been quite as ruthless as her partners (because she had gone through a few even though her usual partner had been Clive), she had been a little too good at making the hard call – especially when something big had been at risk.

“Yes, but NAHA is a part of my past, not part of my presence,” she replied as she shrugged, reaching for her hat. “I’d call it the little bonus that’s going to keep me alive.”

And maybe this was why Ivan did not start a fight with her about her style of running investigations. She did what she had to do to keep herself and her team out of the line of fire. And this was probably what mattered most, that people who worked with her came back alive.

“Not gonna argue with that,” Ivan said and then, they were gone and remained gone for two hours in which he finally got to work on the countless reports he usually would have written down in the morgue. However, it was freezing cold down there in winter and Ur had told him that she would personally murder him if he fell ill because of sheer recklessness. They looked satisfied when they came back, their cheeks flushed from the cold and their eyes gleaming. He had long noticed that Fullbuster shared Ur’s odd fascination with the cold season and that they both only wore the winter equipment because it was mandatory and not because they needed it. They were no spring people, no people for sunshine and butterflies. They thrived of snow and rain and crispy cold air. And maybe this was why they went alone so incredibly well these days.

“We were right,” Fullbuster said as he stepped over to the coat rack to get rid of his stuffy winter clothes. “And yes, Ur, I’ll keep saying we … there’s no I in team after all.”

The woman was about to deliver a witty remark while she removed her coat and her drenched knitted hat from but then, she stopped, taking note of the man standing in the doorframe. He was a bit younger than her and taller than anyone else on the team. His hair was in an odd shade of grey, one that looked dirty compared to the radiant silver Chres Vastia or Grandine Marvell had on their heads. He was wearing the standard uniform – which hardly anyone on the team still did – which was not correctly fitted. In short, he was a disaster.

“Agent Lund, sir,” the stranger started but his gaze was trained on Fullbuster rather than on Ur and all Ivan could do was to watch silently how the catastrophe unfolded. “I’m Agent Erigor Eisenwald, reporting for duty.”

On the left side of the room, Ur’s eye had started to twitch in a worrying manner while her fingers were curled tightly around the edge of her desk. She was not happy and this showed. Fullbuster had caught on and his face was a mixture of misplaced amusement because he could estimate her reaction and frustration.

“Excuse me,” Ur started, her voice forcibly polite as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Ah thanks, miss,” the newcomer said as he did not even turn his head to look at her. “I drink my coffee with three sugar and exactly two spoonful of milk.”

And Ivan’s palm connected with his forehead. He had heard about cases of mistaken identity beforehand but he had never quite believed that these things really happened because every agent would be wise enough to read the files of future colleagues before reporting for duty. This man, however, had not just failed to do the reading, he had also managed to greatly offend his superior within the first three minutes and the medical examiner knew that Ur would hold a grudge against him for the rest of his – probably rather short – life.

“Well, I’m all for being promoted,” Fullbuster started as he glimpsed at Ur who was still restraining herself and keeping her fury on the silent level although she was boiling, “but I don’t see a way for me to become Agent Lund … unless Bambi marries me and forces me to take her name.”

“Proposing marriage to a higher-ranking agent? How _scandalous_ ,” Ur stated, her voice laced with the mockery of far more emotions than it should be possible, as she raised her eyebrows. “Why,  Fullbuster, I didn’t know that you felt this way.” But before there could be said much more, she turned serious and her eyes became cool as ice and she turned to face the younger agent. “As you may have deduced, I am Agent Lund,” she said as she pierced the fool with her death glare, “and I’m the Level Four ‘round here. Agent Fullbuster is about to be promoted to level six soon … my predecessor wrote a rather nice letter of recommendation.”

“Ah, so Clive did care in the end,” Fullbuster said as he pretended to wipe a tear out of the corner of his eye. “Sorry, Ur, but I fear that I’ll have to propose to him then. No hard feelings?”

“You ripped my heart out of my chest, I’ll never talk to you again,” she said as she rolled her eyes at him before she turned absolutely serious again. “I suppose it’s hard to believe that—”

“Someone’s who is like half my size,” the man started and Ivan started to tune out what was happening around him. Eisenwald did not fit into their group, not at all. He lacked the necessary respect for Ur and although Fullbuster and their first-in-command had circled around each other at first as well, it had been different because when the man had been new, he had followed the lead of Clive and had never doubted Ur’s abilities as an agent or as a leader – based simply on the fact that she was a woman. True, he had hit on her more or less from the start but he had done this because he was – as he had confirmed – genuinely interested.

And this was probably the reason why there was nothing happening in their relationship: they both treated it like it was fragile and neither of them wanted to be the one to break it. And that they were completely oblivious to the respective other’s feelings did not help either.

But while Fullbuster had stayed even after his partner had left, even after he had been asked if he wanted to transfer into another unit, Ivan knew that Erigor Eisenwald would not stay at all – the only question the medical examiner still thought to be open was whether it would be Ur or Fullbuster who would file the complaint.


	19. xix.

**i don't quite know how to say how i feel**

* * *

 

She lowered her binoculars for a moment to massage her temples and to take a sip from her tea before she groaned. It was the third day of sitting in the car, observing a house and looking for a weak point. It had taken them ten minutes to realise that there was no weak spot for them to slip in and to take down the security before their fellow officers could sweep in and arrest a local crime boss with ties to criminal organisations far more powerful than him. “Do you know why I never considered an army career?” she asked as she put down her tea.

“…this got a catch, right?” her partner – and it was still odd to think this way – asked as he yawned before he lowered his own binoculars to look at her. “There’s always one with you.”

“I am offended that you think this way,” she muttered before she mentioned towards the house. “Let’s be honest, sitting out here’s a waste of our time.”

“Well, we played a lot of silly games so I guess that you’re right,” he replied with a shrug before he reached for his overly-sugary coffee. “I suppose you’ll hold a speech now.”

“Suppose so, yeah,” she said as she rubbed her hands against each other although this was pointless, this observation and drained even the last spark of warmth out of her system hours ago. “I didn’t join the army because I wouldn’t fare well in a system where I can’t question orders,” she explained as she bit her lip. “Even in NAHA, I always asked after the _why_ behind an assignment … Gil totally hated it, made it sound like I was never trusting my superiors,” she added with a tiny shrug. “Anyway, the reason why I’m telling you this is that … I need you to trust me on something.”

“The way you build up this story makes me think that I won’t like it,” he said as he glimpsed back at the house, “and that it’s worse than spending the rest of the week sitting here.”

“…this sounds pretty accurate to me, yes,” she said with a shrug as she reached over his head to get her hands on a well-hidden folder which she opened and flipped through before she sighed deeply. “Back in the days, Gil and I had something we called the _Sorry For Stepping On Your Moment_ Gambit … awfully long name, I know,” she remarked as she removed her badge from her belt and handed it over to him. “It was basically to pose as an assassin and to get caught on purpose. Prisoners get closer to the lion’s den than anyone else.”

“…I knew I wasn’t going to be fond of it but this … sounds crazy,” he replied as he shook his head, crossing his arms over her chest. “C’mon, there has to be another way.”

“We have been over this,” she replied as she removed as many objects that could have identified her as she was carrying with her. “We need to get on the inside. And sometimes, the only way to win is to lose. I’m not scared at all about this.”

“I’m not scared either,” he replied as he grabbed her wrist and held her back, “but I see a lot of problems with his plan, seriously. What if they see through it?”

“We’re talking about low level criminals here,” she replied as she checked the ammunition of her gun and grimaced slightly at it. “They’ll start panicking which opens the window for you to get in, collect the evidence and get me out … unless, of course, I get out on my own.”

“Which you plan on doing,” he said as he rolled his eyes at her, “just to clear this up.”

“Gildarts … forgot me once,” she said with a shrug as she pinned back her hair and sighed deeply. “Please don’t do the same, I was pretty mad at him afterwards because of this.”

She had not admitted this so far to anyone but a large part of her was missing her best friend. His transfer to a whole new town was different from her previous reassignment to a peaceful job behind a desk. When she had worked down in consulting, she had still been around. She had still known what he had been doing, had still known exactly about his life. And she had always had the option to just show up in his office to check up on him. Nowadays, when she wanted to look after him, she had to travel far, had to make time for it. She could call him to ask how he was doing, how Cornelia was settling into their new life – but it was simply not the same as what they had had beforehand.

She knew that they both kept themselves busy because this was a dangerous stage of finally growing apart into two vastly different people. But it bothered her that after all those years, after everything they had been through, they suddenly had small talk about the weather. He had asked her not to talk about work because – as he had put it – he still needed to get used to not being part of their team, of the team he had brought together even though Marvell had led his hand.

She was not used to talking to Gildarts when his guard was up – not because he was keeping a secret but simply because it was her who was talking to him and this hurt her although she could understand it. The last time they had parted ways, she had left him with the office and everything else. This time, he had been the one to forsake something.

(A part of her wanted to ask him to return.)

She worried about him, just like he had worried for her when she had been the one who had run rather than to fight, to endure. And whenever she worried a bit too much, it influenced her health badly because she did not sleep properly because she was too busy rethinking everything, trying to figure out when she should have figured out that everything was getting too much for him, that everything was about to tear him apart little by little.

And the worst part was that even after all those years, Gildarts probably did not know how much she really cared about him. He knew that he was her best friend and that she trusted him more than any other living being but she had never told him that she had long come to see him as some kind of older brother who kept her safe when she endangered herself once again out of sheer recklessness. Because although this was his field of expertise, it was something she could do as well – as her current course of action showed.

It was not as easy for her to actually get caught as it had been in the past because she had the expertise on her side and the knowledge about the building she had infiltrated. But in the end, she let the trap snap close around her and waited, just waited for her partner to make his move while she kept as many people as possible focused solely on her and distracted from the man who was – as she could see in the screens no one but her was looking at – merrily getting the data from their server while they were too busy trying to get the assassin they had captured to talk about her employer.

(She was nearly impressed that the gambit still worked this well.)

The most challenging aspect of this was – for her, at least – not to break free from her restrains too early, not to reveal that she was the one calling the shots before it was time. Thankfully, she was a very good actress and it was not too difficult for her to deceive a bunch of men who had certainly not been hired because of their intellectual skill but for their muscle.

And raw physical strength was not going to cut it when she was the one who was their opponent because her entire training at NAHA and at ECID, likewise, had been about being a worthy opponent for people who were considerably stronger than her and to make sure that she could hold her own against them.

And so she waited, her patience fading as she cast her spell, created the illusion for them.

After all, there were two kinds of people in the world – the ones who played their part and the ones who observed the players on the stage, often without even noticing what was happening before it was far too late for them to stop what was happening to them.

(And right now, it was _far_ too late for those people, she had long trapped them in the lie she had spun like it was the easiest thing in the entire world.)

In her veins, the adrenaline was running high as she twisted her wrist to free herself from the handcuffs but although it hurt like hell, she was not even batting an eyelash at this because there were more important tasks for her to handle and Silver replied on her being able to put on one hell of a show – and she had always been a bit of an overachiever which meant that she was going to leave them all speechless.

She had the full attention of everyone in the room, had successfully distracted them from everything else. Her gaze flickered briefly over to the screens and relief flooded her as she noticed that Silver was out of their server room and on his way to get her out of her trouble.

And she allowed herself to let her act crumble around her like a dry cookie. Checking the time, she nodded with a proud smirk on her lips because it had been a new personal record; she had managed to play the helpless victim (or better said: the incompetent assassin) for ten minutes without letting anyone slip.

And now was a very good time to break the act because they had been dissatisfied with her answers and had decided to make her talk – and she really did not like the idea of being cut open for no good reason whatsoever – and this gambit was hardly more than a ploy.

“Now, now,” she said as she reached for the knife that had remained unfound even when they had searched her, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’m really not into knives.”

And this was actually the truth, they were among her least favoured weapons because she always had to get her hands dirty when she used them and it was rather exhausting to get the blood out from beneath her fingernails – especially when it could have been prevented by using a different kind of weapon, one that allowed her a clean attack.

“I don’t think you’re the one who calls the shots ‘round here,” the guard in charge replied as he twirled the knife around his fingers. “Sorry, _dollface_ , but you won’t walk around unscathed.”

She smirked at this overly self-assured claim before she raised an eyebrow. “I actually think that you’re the one who will walk away with some more scars,” she said as she tilted her head, allowing her smirk to become a Cheshire Cat smile. “Although … not sure about the walking part, to be honest. Well, maybe you’ll be lucky.”

“Oh well, dollface, how you’re going to stop me?” he asked back as he chuckled.

“ _I’d_ break your jaw,” she said with a shrug and the grin of a woman who was about to play her ace, “but I’m not certain what _he’ll_ do. We didn’t discuss this part properly.”

“Breaking his jaw sounds like a pretty good idea,” Silver replied as he closed the door behind him, making more noise than necessary which supported her theory that he was a bit of a drama queen at times. “My, hello, Bambi,” he added before he moved through the room, carelessly knocking down whoever was trying to stop him. “I _thought_ you’d leave on your own.”

“Oh well, maybe I wanted to check if you’d forget me too,” she said before she moved throwing the chair she had been sitting on at another man before she looked at her partner and nodded briefly before they took up running. “…we aren’t going to do this again anytime soon,” she promised as they approached their car.

“Oh, that’s probably for the best because otherwise, I’ll be the next one to file for—”

She tuned him out just there and although this would have required a lot of focus in the past, it was ridiculously easy for her now and this was something that worried her because god, she did not like the whole ice queen cliché at all and she hated it that she was hiding behind it now because she was in no mood to deal with something – or rather, someone. She did not like to hear people joke about leaving her behind. She had let Gildarts go because it had been the best for him and because she had acknowledged that it had been something he had thought about for a while before he had made the call – and so she had been able to understand this, to support his decision.

What she did not want was for leaving ECID to become some kind of trend or fashion statement. She knew that Ivan was getting offers from institutes all over the country – and that he was basically stupid not to accept one of them and to leave his work as an underappreciated medical examiner behind – but all in all, it frustrated her beyond belief that everything was falling apart around her and that there was nothings she could do to stop it somehow.

“You know,” she muttered as she started the engine, “no one forced you to stick around, no one told you that you had to stay with ECID and to become my partner after Gil left us behind.”

Her partner was silent for a moment before he frowned deeply. “What are you on about?”

Under different circumstances, she would have let it go, would have convinced Ivan that they had to go out for some drinks after work and vented her frustration – which she could mostly not even understand because it was entirely out of character for her to be bothered by all those small little things – to him because Ivan would keep all her secrets for the rest of eternity and probably longer than that, too. But there was something boiling inside of her and it had been boiling there for far too long and the countdown had ticked down which meant that the bomb was about to explode – and there was no way whatsoever for this to end well.

“That I don’t need anyone to kid around about leaving,” she snapped before she gritted her teeth. “Believe it or not – I actually care about this whole team.”

“You care because Clive made it your goddamn responsibility when he left,” her partner hissed back at her and she nearly wanted to laugh because heaven knew that she had more reasons to do something than just to follow whatever wish Gildarts had uttered.

“If I had wanted to leave, I could have left years ago,” she said as her more rational self yelled at her to stop talking because she was an open wound right now and she would make a mess out of absolutely everything in reach. “I never depended on anyone. I do things for myself.”

This was neither a lie nor the truth because while she had done a lot of things simply for herself, staying with ECID after she had fallen apart years ago had been because she had not been sure what else she could still do. Her creativity had been burned out of her head and she had felt nauseous from looking at blueprints – she had been a woman without any options.

“…so, you aren’t quite as happy with Clive leaving as you pretended, _I get it_ ,” Silver replied with a frustrated tone in his voice. “But – seriously, you shouldn’t take this out on me. I wasn’t the one who yelled _hurrah_ when he said he wanted to leave. That was you.”

“Because I am a supportive friend, yes,” she replied coolly. “Who wants him to be happy.”

“Nodding along to every stupidity he thinks up is not being supportive, that’s enabling him!” the man replied sharply, his limbs folded against his body like he was a pocket knife.

“Don’t you tell me how I am supposed to handle my best friend,” she said coolly as she steered the car onto the headquarters parking place, her knuckles white as she was gripping the steering wheel. She did not like to fight with people she cared about but sometimes, it was simply necessary to let off some steam. And it seemed like right now, the time had come.

“I’m actually surprised that you recognise him as your best friend,” he said grimly and she felt how the blood in her veins froze because this hit a little too close to home for her comfort.

“Who told you about it?” she asked as she stopped the engine and cracked her bones.

“What are you on about this time?” Silver asked as the frustration in his voice grew once again.

“I asked you a simple question – who told you about that?” she inquired as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself because this was no longer about Gildarts, this was about someone letting it slip that she was horrible with talking about the relationships she had with others; it was so much easier for her just to show that she cared instead of saying so.

(Action spoke louder than words, after all.)

But she would need a few hours to snap herself back into the role she was supposed to play because it was not like her to snap at someone for no good reason whatsoever. She was coming apart on the seams and she did not like it at all because this was a weakness she could not afford.

* * *

**it's woven in my soul**

* * *

 

Ivan was pretty sure that it was not part of his job to listen to the problems of his team. He was their medical examiner, not their psychologist – but for some reason, they all seemed to think that just because they were his friends, they had gained the right to leave their emotional baggage with him. And he sometimes nearly liked this because it meant that they trusted him. But what he did not like was that he first met Ur over tea to listen to her rambling on and on about her problems with the current situation before Fullbuster dragged him off to the bar to make sure that he knew the other man’s problems as well.

(Ivan did not tell either of them that they would have less problems if they would just talk with each other about the way they felt because that would ease the tension.)

“I just don’t get her,” Fullbuster declared for the tenth time in the past twelve minutes while he ordered another glass of whiskey and the second slice of chocolate cake. “Like, okay, I get that she’s not okay with Clive leaving … but why did she let him leave then?”

“Sadly, there’s no secret code all geniuses use,” Ivan shrugged as he took a sip from his own beer before he went back to listening to the other man’s worries. “I don’t get her either.”

“I mean … one would think that she knew how to deal without Clive—”

“She doesn’t,” Ivan interrupted as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not at all … this is a completely new situation for her, that he goes somewhere without her … and it hurts her.”

“Because she loves him,” Fullbuster said with a vibe of resignation. “You can’t deny it.”

“I actually wouldn’t even try,” he replied with a shrug because he had long finished his observations on this relationship. “Just like Ur was been my first friend, Gildarts has always been hers. And the way I would follow her through hell, she would do the same for him.” He stopped himself for a moment to look at the agent but the man’s was unreadable. “It’s nothing … romantic, just loyalty,” he continued while he reached for the knife to cut the cheese he had ordered. “I suppose that you understand loyalty better than anyone else.”

In Ivan’s humble opinion, Ur was stressing herself out because for the first time in her lifetime, she was facing the age-old struggle that what she wanted was not what she needed. She wanted to be a good partner, a good leader for the team but she needed Clive to ground her, to read her genuine inner conflict and to talk her out of it. Ivan could not do this for her.

“I’m not … I don’t even know what’s going on lately,” Fullbuster admitted as he rested his chin on his palm as a sigh escaped him. “I got the feeling that there’s a lot of anger in her.”

“A correct guess, yes,” Ivan confirmed with a shrug.

“Can’t believe I’m saying this but I remember what it was like when Clive was still around,” the former soldier started, “and it was so different back then … she snapped at me today.”

Ivan had feared that something like this might have happened. Ur had been vague about the assignment they had completed and he should have known that something had happened, something that had made her feel guilty for some reason – and she always felt horrible after she took her anger out on someone else, especially when said someone had done nothing to deserve it.

“I had feared that this might have happened,” he said after a moment before he reached for his beer again. “She wasn’t herself earlier, well, she has been off ever since he left.”

“What even is her problem?” Fullbuster asked as he crossed his arms behind his head and for a moment, Ivan was tempted to blurt out the truth, the complete truth. How Ur was not sure how she was supposed to feel about him, how she was demanding far too much from herself, how she was pushing and pulling herself although it was a battle long lost, long gone.

But Ivan kept the secrets he had been entrusted with and although Ur had never stated that he was not allowed to tell Fullbuster about it, some things went simply without saying and this was certainly one example for such a thing. He would not spill the beans, he would remain silent although it pained him because as Ur’s confusion grew, she became more and more snappy and hurtful in her words. For the first time in a very long time, Ur had allowed herself to become emotionally involved in a matter and now, it was getting out of hand because as long as she refused to do something about it, she would remain lost between what was and what could be.

“We all had a hard week,” he said as he wondered when exactly it had become his duty to clean up after Ur, “and she’s suddenly burdened with leadership … the one thing she has avoided like the plague for the last ten years.”

And this was no lie, this was just the truth. Ur had never wanted to be a leader because she had once nearly lost an entire squad and it had left traces on her because she had been responsible for them and she had – in her opinion – let them all down although the information she had based her plan on had been faulty.

“Why would she do such a thing?” Fullbuster asked but it was obvious that his interest came from his exasperation with the woman’s behaviour and not from whatever he felt for her.

“Because she doesn’t feel like she’s up for this challenge,” Ivan said and did not elaborate on it, did not say why Ur did not feel like she was the right one for the job, how she did not understand why she had been chosen to be Clive’s replacement when she – in her opinion – had no outstanding talents whatsoever. She was a good fighter when it came to hand-to-hand combat but Clive had been worlds better than her (and anyone else). She had a good aim but Fullbuster was still the better marksmen. Ivan knew that she was feeling like the only thing she had going for her was her intelligence – which was something where he bested her – and her experience which was literally the only thing that set her apart. He knew that she was simply not seeing that in terms of strategic skill and improvisation, she was unrivalled.

“She’s a pretty complicated woman, isn’t she?” Fullbuster asked as he took a bite of his chocolate cake while he stared into the crown, his frown growing ever so slightly.

“I’m actually still trying to figure out what that says about you,” Ivan replied with a shrug and an innocent grin of his own. “I mean – I just see her as a sister, you’re the one crushing on her.”

“You do realise that you sound like a high school girl, yes?” the man replied as he rolled his eyes, his cheeks losing their usual paleness as the intoxication settled in. “But, never mind, be my guest and tell me what the universe told you about this entire … situation.”

“When I went to high school, I learned that high school girls are probably the greatest experts for interpersonal relationships so I’ll take this as a compliment,” Ivan replied as he took a sip from his own drink. “And I actually think that your chances aren’t even that horri—” he interrupted himself as he spotted a similar sight by the entrance of the bar, no one less than the woman in question herself which was rather odd because it was a Friday evening and the only reason why Ivan and Fullbuster had been able to go out was that Roxanne had kicked him out to ‘socialise’ when he had tried to read and because Layla had insisted on Fullbuster ‘living a bit’ which had raised the question for Ivan what the man was usually doing. Ur, however, had never been someone to abandon her responsibilities to just go out but there she was, standing in the door.

She was wearing some kind of long red blouse over black pants and from the way she had actually bothered to wear a hat to protect herself from the rain, Ivan could deduce that she had not come to pick someone up. She moved through the crowd without touching anyone which required quite a bit of skill before she carefully tapped a waiter’s shoulder and ordered her drink – probably some gin without anything else, she drank her drinks without anything fancy around it – before she slid onto the bench next to Ivan, her posture relaxing. “Evening, gentlemen,” she greeted as she started the timer of her phone.

“Shouldn’t you be relaxing?” Fullbuster asked, the edge in his voice still present as before but now laced with some confusion regarding the reasons of her presence.

“I would,” she replied as she rested her chin on her palm, “but Lyon and Jake threw me out of my own apartment with the order to ‘get some drinks with your team and leave us alone’ and as I was in no mood to argue, I played along with their newest scheme.”

Ivan pressed his lips together before he sighed deeply. “How have you been this evening?” he asked, making his question as specific as possible to make it impossible for her to evade it.

“You know me,” she replied as she toyed with her necklace, pretending to be nervous while she had rarely been more at ease – a gambit that was supposed to keep someone who did not know her well from hearing what she had truly meant: _‘you know me better than I know myself so how do you think I have been?’_

“Why do you think did I ask?” he replied as he scratched his neck, his lips curling upwards. It was exactly like they all said: two could play a game – and he had never lost to her.

“Well, I would want to make sure as well,” she admitted as she turned her head to look at her partner, her face softening even further. “I’m sorry about earlier … I couldn’t help myself.”

She had never been fond of spoken apologies, had always preferred to show how sorry she was but as she was still rather lost on where she was standing with her new partner and so she was forced to apologise verbally instead of just showing that she was unhappy with her own behaviour by buying him his favourite chocolate or something similar. She had rarely – if ever – apologised to Clive because some things simply went without saying.

“You miss him,” Fullbuster concluded drily. It was not even a question for him – or anyone else who had eyes and knew how to use them. Of course she was missing her oldest friend. They all had grown accustomed and as Ivan had caught himself wishing that Clive would return soon, Ur had likely done the same – and just as frequently as the medical examiner.

She was silent for a moment and paid for her drink – indeed, a simple glass of gin – before she replied to his statement. “I’m furious, mostly with myself,” she admitted as she took a first sip of her drink. “Because Gil isn’t telling me everything and it’s my fault because he probably caught on that I expected him to stick around forever … so I can’t even blame him.”

And this had to be what was helping all the other little things to tear her apart, that she was partly accusing herself of having done something that had chased her best friend away from her and that everything that was happening around her was her own fault.

Fullbuster sighed deeply and to gather courage, he downed his whiskey in one go before he looked at her with an odd expression on his face. “He’ll be back,” he said, his voice slurred which was no surprise as he had drunken considerably more and stronger drinks than Ivan. “So it’ll be some temporary thing.”

It was perhaps not quite true because there was a good chance that Clive would genuinely enjoy his new, peaceful job and in this case, he would be the biggest moron in the world to ever come back to ECID where he would probably get himself killed sooner rather than later. But although it was not true, it was what Ur needed to hear and sometimes, this mattered more.

She turned her head to look at Fullbuster and in her face, there was a brief expression of true fondness before she suppressed it again. “Thanks,” she said as she snapped her fingers and somehow caused a waiter to materialise out of nowhere. “This round’s on me.”

Her generosity was part of the reason why Ivan liked to go out with her. She had made it quite clear early on in their friendship that she did not intend to buy his good graces by buying him drinks or food but that she was simply drowning in money and that she preferred to buy the occasional drink than to look like she was some kind of snobbish bitch who did not care about her supposed friends as long as they did whatever she needed them to do.

“Never saw a waiter appear that quickly in this bar,” Fullbuster muttered under his breath as he poked her side carefully. “How do you do this? Are you using _magic_?”

She rolled her eyes before she mentioned towards her bare hands. “I’m young and single,” she started in an attempt to explain matters, “and I suppose I’m still rather pretty.”

“Not the word I’d have used but okay,” the man muttered under his breath and Ivan briefly considered if he should step in to make sure that no one was going to say something that would only cause embarrassment later on – because they did not need more complications.

However, it seemed like the specialist was lucky because Ur had not quite listened to him as she had been distracted by the idiot who had stumbled into her and so she chewed the stranger out before she looked at her partner. “Sorry,” she said with a frown. “You were saying?”

Silver did not react to it with panic which Ivan would have done in his place – and once again, it was Agent Marvell who saved the day by texting him. “Oh,” he said as he opened the message and downed his drink, “it looks like we’ll get to see Clive again pretty soon.”

Ur leaned across the table and frowned at him before she reached for one of the olives neither of them had taken a second look at so far. “Assignment?” she asked as she frowned deeply before she chewed the olive carefully. “Either Gil misses us or it’s something really big.”

“He misses us, absolutely,” Fullbuster said as he pocketed his phone again before he pushed the little tray with the olives over into her direction. “We’ll get a full briefing tomorrow, it’ll be fun.”

He had never been more wrong – but at the moment, none of them knew. 

* * *

**if you don't shoot it how am i supposed to hold it?**

* * *

 

Most of the time, Gildarts was satisfied with the results of his transfer. Rather than to work in an environment where he was constantly stuck between the awkward attempts Ur and Fullbuster made on figuring out where they stood and whether the other one happened to be interested as well, the people around him were relaxed. His personal assistant came with merely one flaw instead of ten thousand – she liked to meddle around in his business but this was something both Ur and Agent Marvell (he really had to call her on non-work-related business soon or she would kill him) had done in the past and so he was used to it. The town was one of the few places in the entire country where the world was still alright – which was what made the row of incidents within the past days so very, very worrying.

This was why he had contacted Agent Marvell and why he had talked her into going against the protocol – which had been easier than he had expected, she had a healthy disregard for the rules at times and her favourite motto appeared to be _‘as long as you do not break the rules but merely bend them, you are good to go’_ and so she had toyed around a bit until she had been able to give him exactly what he had wanted. Apparently, being with Lamia had left her with the lingering determination to just did not care much about what she had to do in order to obtain a goal because in the end, it would always somehow be worth it in her eyes.

The police station was a calm one and Gildarts was about to take a nap when his phone started to ring and he rolled his eyes when he recognised the number. “Turning into an insomniac, ‘sea?” he greeted as he twirled around in his chair. “Or do you need my help?”

She was supposed to be on the road to his new town and that she was calling him in itself was already worrisome enough and the background noises added to his suspicion that something had gone horribly wrong and that her call was not a social one.

She was silent for a moment and he heard the familiar sound of gunfire in the background before it was laced with a groan that came from somewhere close to her. _‘We’re in trouble, car’s down and so is Fullbuster,’_ she said before she took a break, firing two shots. _‘God, Gil, I know that you left to avoid things like that but…’_

“You’re stuck in a ravine somewhere close to me and you don’t know if you can get them both out of there alive,” he finished because he had run to many operations with her not to recognise her voice when she was stressing out over something. And having the life of two people on her shoulders would probably stress out about everyone who existed.

 _‘I have one favour left,’_ she replied after moment of awkward silence. _‘Calling it in now.’_

This was something he had not expected, at least not this early on in his life without his team. Back when he had been with NAHA, he had said that he owed her one after she had dragged him out of a potentially fatal situation without much of a second thought. But she had never felt the need to call in this specific favour and it had been a silent agreement that when she called it in, it would be because she had run out of all other options.

“You’ll be crossed off, right?” he asked calmly while he opened his drawer and took out his gun and his ammunition. He would go out there and end something for one last time. “How’s Dreyar? He isn’t freaking out on you, is he?”

 _‘Told him to stitch up Fullbuster’s—’_ She interrupted herself for a moment, probably to reload her gun _‘—arm; it’s a minor wound … he’ll be okay afterwards but…’_

The medical examiner had been under fire before but he had never been trained for it because he was a scientist by nature. Gildarts knew this well and he knew why it worried Ur so much; she had always felt responsible for him because she had been taught to fight, to defend her own life and he was a sitting duck. Well, that might be a bit exaggerated. Dreyar could handle himself in a fistfight against a normal opponent – normal meaning someone who had not been specifically trained for this – but from his nature, he was more of a diplomat than he was a fighter and right now, this was what might get him killed.

(And if Dreyar died on Ur’s watch, she would never be able to forgive herself for this because she cared a lot about the man and watching him die would ruin her forever.)

“You need to get out of there,” Gildarts said as he reached for his jacket, throwing it over his shoulders, before he grabbed his keys. “Give me your location, I’ll make sure you don’t have to bury a member of your team after today, Ur, that no son loses his parent.”

It was probably not the best idea to bring up the topic of Lyon to Ur but in all the weeks they had been limited to small talk – everything else had hit a bit too close to home – it was refreshing to take up a serious matter with her once again. They had gone toe-to-toe about topics like this in the past and usually, the only time to get Ur to actually talk was when she was preoccupied with something else – like ensuring that her team would walk away in one piece.

 _‘We don’t discuss this now,’_ Ur said grimly and she sounded like she was glaring. _‘Ivan – how are things on your end? Any changes that are actually positive?’_

 _‘Sorry, Ur, but he’ll be out for another few minutes,’_ the medical examiner replied, his voice partly incomprehensible because of the gunfire. _‘I do my best, of course, but you know that I prefer my patients, well, dead.’_

 _‘Well, killing him off to make your job easier is out of question,’_ Ur said and it was hardly the first time she said this. Actually, if Gildarts had gotten five jewels each time she had said this, he would probably be as rich as Ur’s grandparents. It was a line that had first come up during the fateful assignment all those years ago when Ur and Gildarts had been tasked to escort Ivan to a conference which had been threatened.

“You’re being awfully protective over a man you are crushing on,” Gildarts said as he switched on the communication device in his ear and started his car’s engine. “And yes, I do realise that this isn’t a good moment to bring it up. Nonetheless, good luck.”

She did not answer for a while and he nearly told himself that he had succeeded to stun her into silence for a change with his witty deduction but then, he heard the rustle of trees and bushes and he realised that she had dropped her own communication device for some reason, maybe to avoid a bullet. _‘You know,’_ she said, a little out of breath, _‘these people have to be professionals … there’s no other explanation.’_

He had come to the same conclusion because the reason why he had asked for backup with his case had not been that he had been missing his team – okay, it had been part of the reason why he had asked ECID for help – but the way the crimes had been committed, with the professionalism of an insider, of a person who had access to information that should not be common knowledge. And he had tried to keep the arrival of the backup as secret as he had been able to. And when he had made arrangements with Marvell, they had agreed that it would be best for his old team to travel by night.

Right now, Gildarts was happy that they had decided on this because otherwise, it might have gotten extremely ugly because the night would be their cover until he got there and came to their aid. Usually, Ur should be able to deal with it on her own but she had one man down and the other bound to medical care – this was maybe not the worst case scenario everyone had had nightmares about in the past but it was certainly close.

“Makes sense,” he agreed as he drove down a street, praying that she would be able to keep the enemy off their backs until he got there. “Lemme guess, you can’t get in a clean shot.”

 _‘Well, I counted four,’_ she said as she reloaded her gun for the second time while she hissed someone at Dreyar, something Gildarts could not quite understand. _‘One is down for sure already but the rest … I try to keep them busy, hope they won’t notice that I can’t cross them off.’_

“No worries, I’ll have your back in this,” he promised as he steered his car through the darkness, his brows furrowed. “But this is really the last time I do something like this.”

Because he was only human and there was this part of him that missed the thrill of his old work – and to taste this rush all over again only to put it back afterwards would be quite difficult for him. NAHA and ECID both had left traces in his blood and it was quite disturbing how hard it was to get rid of those old habits.

Maybe this was what Layla had meant when she had sat him down and asked if he was really sure about this decision, if he really wanted to give up the part of his life that had given him so much along all those years.

(He really did not know.)

They had come rather close to his town, he realised as he drove down the dark street and his ears registered the all-too-familiar sound of gunfire before he even made it to the next town. Stopping his car in safe distance, he got out and crept closer, taking a look at the scene. The assault that had caused his old team to lose control over their car had occurred at the foot of the mountain and he understood why Ur was having trouble defending her team: their assaulters had the higher grounds – very literally – and so she was stuck to mere defensive actions which was surely not her preferred course of events.

 _‘I know,’_ Ur said and for a moment, he was confused where her voice was coming from because he had nearly forgotten about the device that connected his phone with his ear. _‘That’s a fact I’ve always been aware of … that this would be a one time only thing.’_

“I knew that you’d know,” he said as he opened the trunk of his trunk and got his rifle out, piecing it together without even looking at it because he had done this a million times – or so it felt. “Just … do the others know it too?”

 _‘We all respected your choice,’_ she replied and he noticed that from the way she was lowering her voice, she did not want anyone else to listen to their conversation. _‘Mostly because, you know, you are our friend. Not sure about the other two … but I know that I love you – in a friendly, entirely platonic manner, of course.’_

He knew that she did but he had not heard it from her in a very long time – mostly because they suffered from the same problem: that they both loved a lot but did not talk about it at all. The only people she frequently told that she cared about them because she loved them would be Lyon who was six and needed to hear it from the woman who was his guardian now and her cousin because she had always ended her calls with Jacob by saying ‘be happy that I love you, Jake’ and after all those years, it had been ingrained into her mind to the point that her head would likely implode if she ever happened to forget about this important line.

Gildarts had not heard her saying it since the day after Crocus when he had been furious with her for nearly dying and she had been mad at him for accusing her of not fighting back hard enough – the day when they had yelled at each other until they had run out of air and accusations. And then, when she had sat back down on her hospital bed, her nightgown dyed red because a wound had been reopened when she had been yelling, she had buried her head in her hands and had spoken words he would never forget because they had chilled him to the very bone. _“Never forget that I’m the one who stuck with you for so long, Gildarts. I know that there’s just one way out for us: together. I would never leave without you, I swear. I promised to never leave behind someone I love”_ – and he had known, had known that no matter how birdlike she was, she had the heart of a lion.

And it had terrified him to know that she was so blunt about everything because usually, she kept her feelings bottled up until she exploded one day from everything she had never said.

“I know you do,” he replied as he readied the rifle, “but I think you’re running low on ammo.”

 _‘Smart thinking, yes,’_ she replied and from afar, he spotted movement behind the upset car behind which his old team was hiding. _‘Ivan – hand me Silver’s ammo, I need to keep them busy so they won’t—’_

 _‘—notice that you stopped trying to get a good shot in, I know,’_ the medical examiner replied coolly before his voice became tinged with something else. _‘Talking about Fullbuster, he wakes.’_

 _‘Talking of good shots, Gil, can you take them down from where you are or do I need to mock-surrender myself?’_ she asked and without wanting it, he flinched as a shudder ran down his spine. She had done this once before and for a moment, he had believed that she really had been willed to lay down her life to protect their team. It had been a horrible moment in which he had nearly lost hope but finally, he had realised that it had been just another gambit.

“If you keep them busy, it’ll be pretty easy, actually,” he said as he looked through the rifle’s scope while he bit down on his lip. He liked to talk big when he was nervous and right now, he was the one who was moments from freaking out. He had never been much of a marksman – hand-to-hand combat had always been his preference – but he had never missed when he had need to hit his target.

(He still thought that it would be better if either Fullbuster or Ur were the one with the rifle as they were both considerably better at it than he would ever be.)

 _‘Roger that,’_ she replied as he heard the telltale click of the magazine being switched out. _‘Remind me to get him new ammo once we’ve been extracted.’_

“Your professionalism is ever so refreshing,” he said as his finger curled around the trigger after he had taken aim. Mentally apologising – being a sniper had always seemed cowardly to him – he pulled the trigger and beneath him, one of the assaulters collapsed after the bullet hit his knee.

 _‘You aren’t half bad a sniper,’_ Ur compliments as she maintained her steady firing without ever risking to leave her cover because if she would, she would end up dead. _‘I keep forgetting that.’_

He knew that this was most certainly a lie. Ur was a strategist by nature and she did not forget the strengths of the people she worked with. This was what made her a good candidate for any leadership position – along with the way she was a generally well-rounded agent. She was a wildcard and he knew that the way she had dabbled into pretty much everything at some point would have made most people imbalanced but not her because she could easily separate the different mindsets within her head.

“Not exactly the best compliment you ever made,” he remarked drily as he took down the next opponent with a precise shot to the leg. “But I very much appreciate your mindset.”

 _‘Of course you do,’_ Dreyar scoffed in the background. _‘And no worries, we don’t want you back.’_

 _‘This is actually inaccurate,’_ Ur scolded, sounding a little out of breath. _‘We miss you. And we would take you back. But as we’ve said, we respect your decision, Gildarts.’_

He did not answer because they had been over this and rather focused on being their guardian angel by taking out the last part of the opposing force. And certainly, the gunfire ended moments later and silence reigned again. In his ear, he heard Fullbuster’s disoriented mumble on what the fuck had happened before Ur started to laugh the way only a person who had narrowly avoided death could laugh while Dreyar chastised Fullbuster for sitting up too quickly.

 _‘Gil?’_ Ur asked as she calmed down again. _‘Looks like we’re all fine … thank you very much.’_

He smiled which was pointless because she could not see him after all. “You know I wouldn’t let you die in my town,” he said as he dissembled his rifle again and put it back into the trunk where it had come from. “That would be far too much paperwork for my liking.”

 _‘Charming,’_ she said but compared to her usual self, she sounded rather tired. _‘Still, we need a drive out of this valley … our car is, well, I’ll probably have to replace that one from my own money – don’t think my car insurance covers that many bullet holes.’_

 _‘Well, better the car than one of us,’_ Dreyar remarked from where he was busy fussing over Fullbuster’s injured state. _‘Anyway, I’d like to get Fullbuster to a took – my stitching’s off.’_

 _‘I’ll make sure to report this to your wife,’_ Ur said in her deadpan voice as Gildarts got back into the car and drove down the road, passing the place where he found the men he had taken out and cuffed them before he called in at his station to finally request backup.

 _‘Gimme that phone, Lund, gotta tell my ex-partner that we’re on our way – and for the love of god, Dreyar, I’ll live,’_ Fullbuster muttered in the background before he plucked the communication device out of the woman’s ear to laugh loudly into Gildarts’ ear which was horrifying experience. _‘We’ll come over now,’_ he announced.

And sure enough, they all appeared behind the car and Gildarts could not help but smile as he saw them all. Fullbuster’s arm was in an improvised sling which he did not need at all and the sleeve of his jacket was missing. Ur yawned – not very ladylike as she did not raise her hand to cover her mouth – as she leaned against Dreyar who seemed awfully chipper.

“Gildarts,” Ur said as she smiled up at him before she wrapped both arms around him and made a first attempt on breaking his ribs. “Long time no see, stranger.”

“And yet you recognised me,” he replied as he patted her head. “Now, c’mon, you guys are all muddy … what you need is a shower and fresh clothes … and some sleep.”

“No complaints from my side,” Fullbuster yawned.

* * *

**break me to pieces**

* * *

 

Clive had used his marvellous connections to the head of the town’s police department to get them a large suite in the town’s only hotel. Interestingly, no one had tried to argue against it. Ur had looked like she wanted to say something but when the receptionist had mentioned that the suite had a bathtub that was top of the line, she had switched her objective and had rather asked how many different types of bath salts they had. Dreyar had been too excited – in a bad way, probably, because the man was not suited for the field – and so he had decided to remain in the suite, sorting out their equipment while Ur had disappeared in the bathroom and Silver had decided to head down to the hotel’s store to get something to eat as the kitchen was already closed – which was pretty frustrating because he was very hungry.

“…you didn’t tell Clive or Fullbuster,” Dreyar said calmly just when Silver returned to the room and for a moment, Silver was nearly convinced that the man was talking to himself before he realised that the medical examiner had both arms wrapped around their fearless leader and shielded her from the view of anyone standing in the door. “I can’t say that surprises me, we always kept secrets from the rest.”

“I shouldn’t have gotten you into this mess,” Ur replied and her voice was hollow while her fingers – which were the only part of her body that happened to be visible aside from her legs – digging into the man’s jacket as she clung to him. “This is all my fault, I am so sorry, Ivan.”

“I knew what I was getting myself into,” he said calmly as he let go of her and led her over to the couch where two glasses where standing on the little table. “C’mon, I could fire a gun before you finished your degree,” he said as he patted her shoulder. “Permission to use embarrassing nicknames I came up with the time we went undercover as siblings?” he asked after a moment during which she had been awkwardly silent and staring blankly at the wall.

For a moment, life flickered across Ur’s face as she leaned forward and buried her face in her hands. “Permission granted,” she muttered as she reached for her glass and sighed deeply.

“C’mere, sunshine,” the medical examiner said as he wrapped one arm around her and twirled a strand of her hair around his finger. “It was not your fault; it’s never your fault.”

“I should have known the guy was behind me,” she muttered but her voice was softening as she leaned her head against his shoulder as she allowed herself to relax. “That’s my job.”

“No, it is not,” Dreyar said as he shook his head. “And you shouldn’t freak out over one slipup in god knows how many years,” he added as an afterthought. “You’re still the best, snowflake.”

“I am not,” she said but her voice lacked the sharpness it had previously had as she was slipping into a sense of utmost security and even she could not remain on edge when she was lulled into a feeling of safety.

“You are,” he replied as he patted her shoulder as he remained oblivious to the man standing behind the shelf, unable to move. “C’mon, Ur, you have shot more than one person for threatening my life along the years … so why are you making such a drama out of this?”

“Because I was trained to do it,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I know when to pull the trigger and when not to … and it took me years to learn not to feel any guilt when I had no other choice but to take a life. You, you value life so much and you took one.”

“I haven’t been trained, yes,” the medical examiner admitted as he gently traced the blue line that was her vein beneath her skin. “But I knew perfectly well what I was doing. And I would do it again and again – because I don’t love many people and the few I love, I prefer alive.”

It was a bluntness that was rare and that implied a seriousness in the situation. Whatever had happened – and they had both been silent after they had reunited with Clive – it had left Ur feeling extremely guilty and at a loss regarding her friend’s lack of remorse. Dreyar was ridiculously calm and seemed unable to understand why she was so upset with what had happened but then, they had always had different opinions regarding quite a lot of things so this was perhaps not quite as surprising as it seemed.

“You know that I don’t love many people either,” she said quietly as she spun the glass between her fingers and looked at the way how the crimson wine twirled inside the crystal. “Which is why this whole thing bothers me so damn much … dammit, Ivan, this—”

“—Ur, no,” he interrupted her as he patted her head the way an older brother might and once again, Silver was reminded that they had never denied that they shared the same bond siblings would share. “Don’t do this to yourself, I beg you. Just … sleep. I need to get something from the store but … I’m pretty sure that Fullbuster’ll be back soon.”

“…hurry, yes?” she asked calmly as she reached for a pillow and rested it beneath her head before she yawned. “I’m pretty, well, tired. And I’d prefer to sleep with the door locked.”

Silver moved backwards quickly and closed the door silently before he unlocked it without the usual attempts on keeping as silent as usual. Breathing in and out, he summoned his most confused facial expression as he looked from the agent to the medical examiner and back again. “Please don’t tell me that I’m interrupting something,” he said as he put down the bag on the table. “I brought some food – anyone but me who’d kill for some chocolate now?”

Dreyar went pale and Ur patted his hand before she rolled her eyes. “I’d kill for some rest right now,” she admitted before she scratched her neck, “but I doubt I’ll fall asleep easily.”

“I could sing you a nice little lullaby,” Dreyar suggested and from the way he had said it, it sounded like he was absolutely serious about it. “Laxus really likes it and—”

“Not necessary, I’ll trade my wine for some tea and chocolate,” she replied with a smile before she patted the empty space beside her on the couch. “I kinda hope that you’ll sit with me for a while, Silver,” she added as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Ah well, I’m not tired yet,” he said as he reached into the bag and threw a bar of chocolate into her direction and was not even surprised when she caught it. “We got our debrief with Clive in the morning, correct? Or well, after he wakes up since he’s on nightshift.”

She nodded at him as she unwrapped the chocolate and took a bite before she smiled approvingly. “Thanks,” she muttered as she chewed. “I’ll look forward to that debrief, seriously -- because it’ll also be the briefing for the job that lead us to this place.”

“…I nearly forgot about that,” he said as he slumped down on the couch, resting his feet on the table before he reached for a bottle of beer he had bought at the store. “Good that we keep you around – I guess it shows that you worked in an office when our ways first crossed.”

She grimaced and rolled her eyes before she clenched her fist around the tinfoil and shrugged. “I wasn’t really cut out for the office,” she admitted after a moment. “I mean, sure, I knew how to pull it off but – consulting isn’t my weight class.”

“You got to scare the living daylights out of other officers,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “And yes, I just admitted that you were kinda intimidating at first.”

“Suppose you felt the same way I did when I first crossed paths our dearest medical examiner … and was convinced he hated me,” she said as she wrapped her arms around her legs and stared out of the window. “It was during one of the meetings for gifted youngsters … it was pretty boring, to be honest, and we ended up playing chess.”

“And how did you deduce that he hates you?” he asked as he wondered what sort of chess game it had been to instil one of the most rational people he had ever met with the belief that someone else hated her. And he knew her well enough that she indeed meant hatred.

“I beat him,” she said with a shrug, her eyes showing an odd mixture of vulnerability and something else, something darker. “And he was looking at me and I didn’t get why he was so silent … and this is the story how I spent years believing that Ivan Dreyar hated me.”

“Seriously?” he asked as he took a sip of his beer. “I would have guessed that the smart kids decided to stick together against those who aren’t quite as smart or something.”

“That was later on,” she said with a shrug.

And he knew what she meant, that it had taken a long time for them to realise that no matter how brilliant they were on their own, they needed someone who was able to keep up with them on the road to true discovery. He had seen too many exchanged between them – verbal and silent likewise – and he had learned that most of the time, the part they did not say was more important than what was actually shared with the rest.

“Ivan often was, well, miserable when we first crossed paths professionally,” she added as she spun her bracelet around her forefinger, eyes transfixed on the circle of silver. “All this potential inside his head … and no chance to put it to good use … he was so unhappy.”

He could imagine this well, he could see the medical examiner as a teenager, dressed in oversized clothes and trying to cover up the way he was smarter than everyone else because there were far too many who simply could not appreciate the genius of another because it somehow hurt their own pride, their feeling of being better than anyone else although this was most certainly false.

“Let me guess, both his parents expected him to be just like him,” Silver replied as he mused if it was perhaps good for him that he had never encountered the pressure parents could cause. Usually, he was angry at his parents for leaving him but sometimes, it had its perks to have grown up without anyone telling him who he was supposed to be. And whenever he looked at Dreyar who had had two very powerful people pulling on him or at Ur who had basically rejected the life that had been offered to her on a silver platter, perhaps because she had not wanted to be like her father.

“But of course,” she said as she kept staring at her bracelet. “I respect Director Edel as a commander and a superior – but she makes me look like an expert for interpersonal affairs.”

“What do you mean?” he asked although he was slowly getting a bad feeling about this.

“Growing up, I didn’t have exactly the best examples around,” she said as she stopped spinning the bracelet and returned it to her wrist. “It probably sounds like I am coming up with excuses for my lack of social skill but…”

“Now you’ve lost me,” he admitted as he held out a bottle of beer to her. “Mind to explain?”

“Suppose I do mind, actually, but someone told me to get out of my comfort zone every once in a while,” she said as she opened the bottle on the edge of the table before she took a sip. “And no, that wasn’t Ivan. He’s too nice to do that.”

“He can be a bit of an ass, sometimes,” Silver replied as he wondered if they were seriously going to have a heart-to-heart and if he should share some information as well.

“He’s a brilliant man who happens to be literally surrounded my idiots most of the time,” she said as she rolled her eyes and lifted the bottle to press it against her temple. “You should really cut him some slack; if there’s someone who deserves it, it’s him.”

“Well, you’re no idiot, not even by his standards,” he replied as he shrugged and raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re pretty smart yourself … so you probably can help him out.”

“But I need to be careful,” she said as she took another sip of her drink, her forehead sporting a textbook perfect frown. “Otherwise, I might end up pushing him a bit too far.”

He knew what she meant although it did not seem like she was going to elaborate on the topic. She did not want the man to change, not even to their advantage. She was maybe not always okay with the way he handled stress but she made the best out of it and refused to use her influence to move him into a direction that was against his ideals and beliefs.

“You try pretty hard to be the best friend possibly for him, don’t you?” he asked although he knew that it was true. Ur was as far away from actual perfection as anybody else but she was dedicated to the people she loved and she did not let them fall apart when they felt like they could never measure up to the expectations others had for them.

“At the end of the day, I’m just as messed up as everyone else,” she replied as she shrugged, tapping her fingers against the bracelet around her wrist. “When I was finishing university, there was a short time when I tried being someone else … until I woke up and realised that I was being a complete fool.”

“Most people wouldn’t mind being you,” he said with a shrug and it was true because even when she had had her Episodes, she had always appeared to know what she had to do. She had a drive to get what she wanted and she was not the sort of person to just surrender.

“Of course not,” she said as she rolled her eyes at him. “Not when they consider my inheritance … but everything in this world comes with a price and I paid for this.”

“Friendly reminder that you’re more than your grandparents’ money,” he said as he clinked his bottle against hers, a faint smile on his face. “I would guess there’s a lot more to you than that.”

“I told Ivan to stitch up the cut in your upper arm because I knew it’d keep his mind off the shooting,” she admitted and there was a hint of guilt in her voice that was misplaced in his opinion because whatever she had done, it had been to keep them all alive. And this had worked.

“His stitching was kinda messy,” he said with a shrug as he traced the bandage the medical examiner had wrapped around the arm after Silver had taken a shower with his forefinger.

“That’s why he usually works with dead patients,” she replied sarcastically. “Still, _sorry_.”

“You kinda like to apologise, don’t you?” he asked as he frowned at her because he did not understand. They were all agents – well, except for the doctor – and sometimes, this was necessary. And her call had not even been a bad or even problematic cut. He would have required treatment for the cut in any case and to use the minor injury to keep a valuable member of the team from freaking out was nearly brilliant. It would have been brilliant if she had thought about getting him something to numb the pain right from the start but he understood that she had been in a pinch and that she had prioritised survival over everything else – which was the only call she had been able to make.

“I don’t have many people who can actually stand me when I’m just me and I prefer not to lose them to pride,” she replied as she shrugged, staring at the bottle in her hand.

“Aren’t you the one who had a fan club at NAHA?” he asked as he struggled not to laugh at the idea because it was just ridiculous to imagine. “So I guess people like you.”

“Let me put I this way,” she said as she pressed her lips together, “as a kid, the only functioning romantic relationship I ever witnessed was the marriage of my grandparents … the same grandparents who made their billions out of the money my great-grandfather gave his son as compensation for disowning him.”

He remembered how she had once mentioned that no matter how much he had heard about the constant drama in her family from the press, there was a good deal more hiding just beneath the surface, just waiting for someone to get too close and to swallow the person whole. He knew for a fact that this was why she had made a point out of staying away from this business. She did not want to get involved, did not want to become like her father.

“So a part of you is bitter over the whole Bane thing after all,” Silver said and the fact surprised him because it came out of nowhere for him. He was smart enough to know that she was not mad about the man as a person because the guy had been pretty annoying and also a huge asshole. She was angry for another reason, one he had yet to uncover. And he would.

“Let me put it this way: even my pride suffers when the only person who has shown genuine interest in the past … six years only did so because you were a mission,” she said as she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. “Nearly makes me feel about playing Deliora … no, actually, it doesn’t.”

“You’re an odd bird, Lund,” he decided as he raised an eyebrow at her, “and I doubt that people only take interest in you when you’re their mission.”

“Yes, as a friend,” she said as she pursed her lips and lifted her hands. “That’s probably my own fault for working in a field where a high percentage of the people I deal with are not exactly date-material and the other part nearly starts crying when a woman has an opinion.”

“I somehow get the vibe that this actually bothers you,” he said as he wondered if this was the sort of thing she usually discussed with Dreyar before they marked it as a secret – just like the medical examiner shooting someone and Ur claiming it as her own action – and buried it.

“I turn thirty next year and I kinda had hoped that I’d have more on my dating record of actually serious relationships than just, well, Milkovich,” she said with a snort, her face briefly betraying her frustration with the current situation before she sighed deeply. “God, I can’t keep complaining about this or people will start setting me up on blind dates _again_.”

“If it comes to that, tell them that you’re seeing someone in secret,” he suggested as he mused what exactly this conversation was about and why he was still talking in the first place.

“Marvell will catch me with that lie,” she muttered as she rested her head against the pillow and closed her eyes. “All in all, this would be easier if I hadn’t my sight set on someone.”

Of course she had. She would be stupid not to, not when she was secretly wanting some kind of romance in her life, some sort of knight in shining armour to sweep her off her feet. This should not come as a surprise, not at all – and yet, it had caught him off-guard. “Really?” he asked as he raised his eyebrow at her. “Someone managed to impress you?”

“I’m no teenager that has to be impressed anymore,” she replied as her lips curled upwards into a warm smile. “I long decided that if I ever date again, it’ll be someone who makes me feel comfortable … I’m tired of having to pretend to be someone I’m not.”

“Someone who can look straight at the ugly and wouldn’t run,” he said as he frowned, keeping himself from being childish by adding _‘someone like me’_ because that would be silly.

“There’s a lot of ugly in my past,” she said calmly as she toyed around with her bracelet once again, “and that’s something I can’t hide, something I can’t deny without lying.”

“So you look for someone who doesn’t mind the way your ex-fiancé died,” he said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s quite an interesting demand for a future boyfriend.”

“You doubt I’ll find someone like that,” she said quietly, her eyes darkened with something odd.

“Actually, your honesty in that matter is bravery.”

_You have found someone like that._

 


	20. xx.

**we can fight to hold on (but august is gone)**

* * *

 

Gildarts was nearly happy that Silver Fullbuster was the first one to get to the meeting point – the café down the street from the hotel – after the very eventful night, dutifully reporting that Ur and Dreyar had gone to the car salesman to get them a car for the trip back to Era because the car they had arrived in was a wreck.

“So,” Gildarts started as he nodded at the waitress who was getting him more coffee, “how’s working under Ur’s command? Is she driving you up the wall already?”

He knew that if he was the one who suddenly had to accept Ur as a figure of authority, he would be going crazy – not because he did not respect her but because he knew her too well to believe that she felt comfortable in her current role. She had always been a good leader because she had never seen her authority was something that should be taken for granted. She had always known the limits of her power over other people and sometimes, when all people had wanted was a clear order, she had had told them that she had no orders for them because it was out of her hands. (And having a superior refusing to use his powers could be just as frustrating as having one who constantly overstepped the boundaries he had been given.)

“Well, I had worse superiors,” Fullbuster said with a shrug as he twirled his fork between his fingers before he went back to eating his pie. “She apologises when she goes wrong.”

Gildarts nearly rolled his eyes at this. “You mean, when she overreacts in the aftermath of something,” he corrected as he remembered the time Ur had been so furious with him for getting hurt that she had nearly broken his nose the next time they had sparred. “Her decisions are usually as correct as they can possibly be but sometimes, she shrinks back from her own courage,” he added in an attempt to explain that her emotional side did not make his best friend any less of a great – if not flawless – agent.

“Like I said, as far as superiors go, she’s as good as it can get,” the black-haired man repeated before he raised an eyebrow. “Something keeps you worrying, doesn’t it?”

And he was right; Gildarts kept worrying as well because something was happening around them and he was nearly sure that something would happen to his old team and he would not be there to help them. Sometimes, he nearly wished he had not left them in the dust when he had ditched Era for the countryside. They had been a good team and although it would be too much to call their days as a team ‘golden days’, it had been a period of inner peace for them all nonetheless because the pain had been not quite as real as long as they had been all together.

They had learned the rules of the game and they had played by them but they still had encountered problems. The way Ur had been kidnapped, the way Agent Marvell had forced their hand in the SHELL situation – this all had not been fair on either of them because they had never signed up to save the country, their job had always been to protect it.

It had been a twist of face that had changed them, something they could not come back from.

And when he thought about the way this had changed his team, it hurt because they had deserved better than this. They all had not deserved to learn that they had been played from the beginning, that they never had had a choice because some people had played a bigger game and they all happened to be the pawns that had been needed to win said game.

“As your team leader, I was supposed to shield you,” Gildarts said quietly after a moment, “and for the longest time, I thought I could do that. But then everything went wrong. Ur nearly died – twice – and I can’t help but blaming myself for that,” he admitted before he shook his head at himself and his foolishness. “I was her partner for years … and once a partner, always a partner. I should have kept her safe.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this,” Fullbuster protested calmly as he shook his head, “that’s not how things work. You said it yourself; you were her partner, not her babysitter.”

And technically, he was absolutely right in his assessment of the situation but there was a part of Gildarts that kept whispering in his ear how close he had come to losing his best friend forever. He had seen her injuries after her fight against Milkovich – who hopefully rotted in hell where he belonged – and he had had nightmares where one of the many glass shards that had left scratches on her skin had pierced vital organs. And he did not need more scenarios in his nightmares that showed him possible ways for her to die. He had enough dreams about Crocus and they sometimes had him calling her in the middle of the night to make sure that she was really okay because they felt far too real sometimes.

(And sometimes, he nearly felt like crying because it was tearing him apart to see her bloodied form on the foot of that tower, knowing that he could have saved her if he had been faster.)

“I knew her when she was a kid so I suppose a part of me will always will feel responsible for everything that happens to her,” the red-haired man said calmly as he no longer felt quite as happy that it had been his ex-partner who had shown up first because Fullbuster was pretty smart and he was rather good at guessing the true motivation behind everything sometimes.

“Well, she isn’t a kid anymore,” Fullbuster said with a shrug as he shrugged. “Look, I get it. Believe it or not, I got people I care for as well. And I really think that you should talk about this with her because in the end, she’s the one who can understand you best … because it concerns her more than it concerns me or anyone else.”

“Ur and I … we do not talk about these things,” Gildarts admitted as he looked at his hands before he remembered that this had a very good reason. They did not talk about those things because it would make them remember the days when death had been chasing them and had nearly caught up with them. They had never explicitly said that they would never mention the times when they had spent hours in the hospital, waiting for the other one to get out of surgery. “Some odd oath of silence?” his former partner asked with a frown.

“Ur and I, we saw a lot of ugly things and we both have acted in ways we aren’t proud of,” Gildarts said calmly as he shrugged. “Trouble followed us, wherever we went … but you know, we never quit because we never learned how.”

But before Fullbuster could reply, the door to the café was opened as Ur and Dreyar arrived. The medical examiner looked entirely calm and even Ur did not seem to be as tense as Gildarts had expected her to be, considering the past night’s events. Both members of ECID were wearing civilian clothes which reminded Gildarts that they were technically consultants and not here to solve the crime with him the way they would have a few weeks earlier.

“Gildarts,” Ur greeted as she sat down next to Fullbuster while reaching for the menu. “Silver.”

“Coffee and raspberry pie?” her current partner asked as he mentioned towards the waitress who was approaching their table with a tray filled with pie and coffee. “I ordered both your standard stuff,” he explained with a shrug. “Thought it’d be the right thing to do.”

“Perfect,” Dreyar said as he smiled thinly at the woman who was sitting opposite of him. “So, Clive, how about you tell us everything you know about this case?”

“Sounds like a good idea, yes,” Ur said as she crossed her arms behind her head and smiled. “So, you said that you can’t trust anyone from your own team here, yes?”

“I trusted them more before you were nearly killed last night,” Gildarts said quietly as he looked at the coffee in front of him, his lips pressed into a thin line. He had never wanted to mistrust people he worked with because it made impossible for him to turn his back at them and he needed to be able to trust the people  behind him or he could not be the policeman this sleepy little town in the middle of nowhere deserved.

“Sounds like a good enough reason,” Dreyar said as he took a sip of his tea.

“Technically speaking, we aren’t authorised to actually do any investigation,” Ur said as she twirled the fork between her fingers, a frown etched deeply into her face as her brain was rattling down the billions of rules and regulations their work had and any possible loopholes. “But you know, I’d be up for a convert op.”

“And that’s why you’ll always be my favourite girl,” Gildarts said before he stopped himself and lifted his hands at the same time the both other man raised their eyebrows at him. “You know how I meant it – platonically, sibling-like … in a partner-in-crime manner.”

“Guys, leave Gil alone,” Ur said as she smirked as she pulled out her notebook and looked up at Dreyar before she raised an eyebrow as well. “I need information and possible suspects.”

“Okay, she’s my favourite girl too,” Dreyar said as he pushed his tablet over the table and into her direction. “I ran some background checks on a few people in your department.”

“And that’s why you are my favourite guy, Ivan, you’re just too good at reading my mind,” she said as she reached for the tablet, a short smile crossing her features. “Anyone suspicious?”

“Actually, yes,” the medical examiner said as he leaned over the table and opened a file. “I had a bad feeling about our involvement with SHELL and its possible connection to this mess.”

“Our involvement should have been classified information,” Fullbuster said as he reached for his coffee, his scowl rather expressed. “So _technically_ , SHELL shouldn’t be a problem now.”

“We can’t buy anything from technicalities,” Ur said as she bit her lip and scanned the file, her brows knitted together. “Something about this feels pretty off to me. I just don’t know what.”

“Aren’t you chipper today?” Fullbuster asked as he rolled his eyes. “Stress getting to you, Ur?”

“This whole case feels like a major set up to me,” she said as she emptied her own coffee before she looked up from the tablet to face the medical examiner. “I just miss a piece of it all.”

“Ur, you’re here to be a consulting officer, not to investigate anything,” Gildarts protested as he rested both palms on the table, trying to sound as strict as he could. “You can’t do what  know you’re about to do, not this time. This isn’t NAHA anymore.”

“No offense, Clive, but Ur did this consulting thing before and I’m pretty sure she knows when she oversteps boundaries,” Dreyar said as he got up and pocketed his tablet again. “And I never was an agent of anything in the first place so the _‘this isn’t NAHA anymore’_ thing doesn’t work on me at all.”

“And why can’t I come as well?” Fullbuster asked as he frowned at them both.

“Because you look like a specialist and you act the part,” Ur said as she closed the buttons of what was apparently a standardised ECID uniform jacket. “You’re a better shot than I’ll ever be because you can handle heavy weapons far better,” she explained with a shrug before she rolled her shoulders, “I’m a specialist who can pass as anything.”

And this was the truth. Back in NAHA, she had been the one people had called on when it had been necessary for someone to play the inexperienced agent, for someone to act incapable of defending herself. And no matter how insulting it had been for Ur to have to pretend like she was weak, she had pulled it off because it had been part of her duty.

“So what’s the play?” Fullbuster asked as he looked at her with both eyebrows raised.

“We get Neekis to break the door open for us and the moment they realise that someone’s trying to find their secrets, they come after us,” Dreyar said as he rested his hand on Ur’s shoulder, “and we might get beaten up a little bit. Part of the job, I suppose.”

“But Neekis won’t let the alarm go off before he’s out again,” the woman said as she dragged the medical examiner off, her steps full of purpose and determination, as always.

* * *

**'cause nothing's as it seems (i'm spinning out of control)**

* * *

 

Ivan did not talk as Ur approached one of the officers at Clive’s new station because he would do better standing in the background, quietly analysing them all while she was handling the talking. She was good at making them slip up ever so slightly – in a way he would pick up on while their targets did not even notice that they were walking straight into a trap.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Agents Lund and Dreyar,” a woman said as she smiled brightly at them both. “Detective Clive talks a lot about you both.”

“Yeah, I’d hope so,” Ur said as she smiled wider than she usually would while facing a stranger before she pulled Ivan closer, resting one arm around his waist. “ _Doctor_ Dreyar and I wanted to ask if it’s okay for us to get some empty office,” she continued and he was grateful for her not making a scene out of the woman’s mistake. “We brought some work from home and Agent Marvell mailed us further information and, yes, we just wanted…”

“A room, yes,” the woman said with a nod as she stepped away from the reception desk. “Well, I suppose you could have Detective Clive’s office…” she mused aloud but as it happened often with members of the local law enforcement, she stopped as Ur shook her head.

“That would be unwise,” Ivan said quietly as he smiled thinly at the bubbly woman. “Agent Lund has the horrible habit of straightening out Clive’s files when she gets close to them.”

“A habit that carried over from our teenager years,” Ur remarked drily as her eyes flickered across the room, mentally mapping it out. This was one out of many reasons why she – as a former architect – made a brilliant strategist: she could map out buildings within mere minutes and she carried the blueprints within her mind, ready to reconstruct them later on.

“I understand,” the woman said as she led them to an empty office. “There’s a kitchenette down the hallway in case you want to make coffee. I’ll leave you now.”

“She doesn’t like you too much,” Ivan remarked as he started up his laptop, smirking at the woman by the window who was staring down into the yard. It was a longstanding problem that members of the local law enforcement often correctly assumed Ur to be someone who was out to stir up major trouble to use the distraction to go on with her own plots. She had a horrible reputation outside of ECID and NAHA (and maybe Lamia) but she was also someone who knew when it was time to craft a personality solely to piss people off and get them to make mistakes she could use for her advantage.

“If she’d like me, I’d have to be more of a bitch,” the agent said as she connected her tablet to the computer in the office they were now working in to allow Jura Neekis back in Era full access to the system of the police station. “This wasn’t a trip to make new friends, Ivan.”

“Well, you seemed to be moving in on Fullbuster,” Ivan said as he crossed his arms behind his head and raised an eyebrow at the woman who was investing far more attention than necessary on the simple task ahead of her. “Mind to give me some insight on that, Lund?”

“I thought you’d be happy to see me opening up to more people,” she replied as she looked over her shoulder for a moment. “After all, you complain about me being too reclusive.”

“I don’t think that was the word I’ve used,” he replied as he smirked at her. “And you suck at distracting me, this time around. Spill the beans, Frosty, what’s your game this time?”

“Maybe I don’t have some design,” she said and something in her voice gave away that this was the genuine truth. She did not have a hidden agenda, not this time around. This was not like when Bane Milkovich had started to become important in her life – back when she had still been with NAHA – she had been building a more civilian identity. “Maybe there’s no game,” she added as she snorted before she opened her bag and threw an assortment of files onto the table. “C’mon – don’t tell me you hadn’t considered this option, Ivan.”

He had hoped for this case to be what was happening because he had not known how he would have handled anything else – especially after the horrible realisation that Milkovich had been an agent of SHELL, set on ruining Ur’s entire life – quite literally. But it was always preferable to have her confirmation that he was right about her because even after all those years, he was not able to look into her head and understand her completely.

“I did consider it,” he said as he looked up from his screen, “still, good to hear it from you.”

“I don’t play teammates,” she said and there was a vibe in her voice that gave away how offended she truly felt. “You should know that part about me by now, correct? I mean, I’m no complete bitch. Well okay,” the agent said, interrupting herself, “I sometimes am but that is usually part of some scheme to get someone to react in a specific way.”

“Suppose that’s part of the mystery why after all those years, you’re still one of the best,” he muttered as he remembered his mother’s enthusiasm about both Ur and Clive when they had first started to run their own missions because they had combined moral flexibility with a sense of justice that was not as corrupted as it should be after they had gotten all that blood onto their hands to keep other people safe from enemy forces.

“No, I’m still one of the best because I called the rest of our team and told them to pay their bill and get into the car,” she said as she folded her legs beneath her body as she sat down on one of the chairs. “Divide and conquer or so they say.”

“You know, if my father had gotten you before mother did, you’d probably have gone far in the army,” he said and although he hated to talk about either of his parents, he once more made an exception for her because she was the one who could relate best to trouble when it was somehow connected to family as hers was rather messed up as well.

“This whole marching in neat rows thing isn’t my style,” she said as she shed off the stiff uniform jacket and yawned as she waited for the IT expert in Era to decode the files of the police station to allow them greater insight on the people Ivan’s first check had marked as interesting. “That nearly got me kicked out of NAHA, you know? The disobeying thing…”

“Well, Fullbuster survived there for long enough and I’d guess that you’d have been able to do the same,” he said although he knew very well that the both specialists were vastly different in terms of personality and that although she generally seemed to be calmer and more centred, Ur was just as capable of stepping over the line as her current partner.

“I wouldn’t have lasted two weeks,” Ur said as she unzipped her boots and rested her feet on the table between them as she flipped through a case file with a bored expression on her face. And he could understand her boredom as there had been a shortage of murder cases and this was the sort of crime their team specialised in. So they had been lend to other departments with varying success rates – Ivan was rather certain that no one would ever ask again for Ur and Fullbuster to help out in a case that involved small fishes of the underworld because their _style_ did not include sitting in cars for hours without getting anything productive done in this time because they were simply not like that.

“Which makes me wonder how you survived under my mother’s reign for so long,” he replied before he mentioned towards the laptop. “Did Neekis find something interesting yet?”

“You need to be more patient,” she scolded gently as she shook her head. “Can’t believe I miss Lyon’s math test over this … I promised him that I’d help him study for it.”

“You really show unexpected talent for this parenting thing,” he said although he knew that this was one of the things she really did not like to hear – even though he still had not figured out why it upset her so much. It might be connected to the lack of parental attention within the first years of her own life which was the reason for her to basically ‘wing’ her current job.

(And she had never been someone to consider ‘let’s just wing it’ a valid plan.)

“Well, I surely got a skill for making the right call,” she said as she snapped her fingers at the screen, a smirk growing on her lips. “Your background check and Neekis’ analyse along with the information Gildarts offered – and here we go, the killer in the crowd.”

“You should stop the song references, really,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “You tipped off Clive and Fullbuster, I presume?”

“Of course,” she said as she stretched her arms and let a few bones and joints snap into place as she cracked her knuckles. “This isn’t the first time you and I played sitting duck, is it?”

“Not that we ever were,” Ivan replied as he gave her a nod, unbuttoning the top button of his jacket with a smirk. “Gotta admit, you make me appreciate the training I’ve received.”

“And I appreciate you doing this with me,” she said with and he briefly considered how many times they had done this together, how many times they had allowed a bunch of morons to catch them doing something they probably should not have done.

“Of course you do,” he said with a crooked grin, “after all, I’m your favourite guy. God, you should have seen Clive’s and Fullbuster’s face when you said that.”

She laughed as she turned her head at the man who had just entered the office. “Is there a problem, officer?” she asked before she got a clean punch right to the face. But although from the way her head moved after the impact, it seemed like she had been hit indeed, Ivan knew that she was faking it because the punch had been far too slow to truly harm her.

“That, my friend, was a mistake,” Ivan said quietly as he caught Ur as she staggered backwards – her act perfect as expected – and covered her head with his hand as he held her in an awkward embrace. She was fine but the other man was not allowed to know this.

“Was it now, Agent Dreyar?” the man asked with a stupid smug grin on his face. “You two got caught trying to hack us. And we really can’t have that, you see? So hand over the evidence.”

“I have to admit,” the medical examiner said slowly as he twirled a strand of raven hair around his forefinger, “that this was one of the more impressive threats I received in my life. However, this isn’t going to cut it either,” he added as he cracked the pill between his finger and his ring, smearing drops of red all over the cheek where Ur supposedly had been hit. “And I really wished you people would learn that it’s Doctor Dreyar, not agent.”

“You are stalling, doctor, why are you stalling?” the other man asked as he closed the door behind himself as he fully stepped into the room. “There’s no reason for you why…”

“Perhaps … because you miscalculated,” a voice behind them said as Fullbuster and Clive made their appearance, towering in the doorway behind the man, guns at the ready. “Or maybe you just didn’t know that our IT expert is Jura Neekis.”

“Who got hired because he hacked NAHA from a coffee shop,” Clive added as he looked at Ur with an expression of worry on his face as he saw the gushing red on her skin. “So when Jura Neekis gets caught, it’s because he wants to. Congratulations on walking into the trap.” 

* * *

**everything is going right**

* * *

 

She had missed home, she realised as she stepped through the entrance of her home and then, she had to take a step backwards because it had been a very long time since she had considered the place she was staying as a home. It had usually been just an apartment, just a house. The last time before this apartment that she had considered the place she was living in to be her home had been when she had been a child.

(So maybe she was not quite as bad as building her home in people as she had feared.)

She dropped off her bag next to the door before she sneaked down the hallway and into the living room where Lyon was sitting on the couch, reading what seemed to be the book he had to read for his Fiorean class – which was pretty much insane in her opinion because he was just a kid and it was not fair that he had to read so much although he was so young.

So she jumped over the couch’s back and landed next to him, a grin on her face as she reached out and took the book away from him. “Lyon,” she said as she took a look at the book she had just confiscated which was probably irresponsible of her.

“You’re really back again,” the boy said as he wrapped his arms around her, a bright smile on his voice. “I was nearly getting worried that something had happened to you, Ur.”

“Lyon, I told you I’d be back,” she said as she ruffled his hair before she felt a tinge of guilt because there was something in her apartment that did not belong here and it would force her to be the kind of woman who broke everything she got her hands on just because she could. “Did you and Jacob have a good time?”

“He’s a really good babysitter, Ur,” the boy said with a wide grin before he kissed her cheek.

“Maybe he should quit his day job then,” she said drily as she let her eyes flicker all over the living room again, trying to find out what was wrong right now before the realisation sunk in, slowly. She sighed deeply before she regained her smile and mentioned towards the TV. “One of my favourite movies will be on later so how about you get the popcorn and I get changed into something more comfortable than this and we’ll watch it together?”

“This sounds great, yes,” the boy said with a nod as he jumped off the couch and dashed into the kitchen, causing her to smile because he was so easily excited – much like his late mother. Ur had known Eva Vastia well and she had liked the woman because she had always been absolutely genuine in everything she did. Unlike Ur, who was able to pull the trigger at nearly everyone if it was necessary, Eva had been a truly compassionate woman who had loved to help others and who had been missed dearly after she had passed on far too early.

But this was not the right time to think about the dead, at least not for Ur. There was an envelope on her place at the dining table, one she had spotted the very moment she had walked into the room and she knew what this meant. She had seen this coming for a very long time and although she had been angry when the realisation had first struck, she no longer bothered to feel anger over this. Her father was a grownup and when he felt like running for a political position was necessary, she would let him do that and even follow the invitation he had just sent her. Getting up from the couch, she snatched the invitation off the table before she strolled into her room.

This whole issue called for her to talk to someone who certainly had received the same invitation and this was a conversation she did not want to have with Lyon in earshot.

She did not have to lock the door to her bedroom as she sat down on her bed, limbs folded neatly on her sides. She trusted Lyon to know better than to eavesdrop on one of her conversations because he was a good kid and he had been raised by a man who lived even more dangerous than she did. And she knew that Chres had taught his son well, that he had prioritised Lyon’s safety over whatever bliss ignorance to the world’s ways would have offered the son.

(After all, this was Chres Vastia and he had always been one to make the difficult decision.)

Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she looked at the dress that was thrown over a chair, the smooth fabric catching the light and making it look silver although it was dark blue – one of the many ways to use light to create an illusion. It was genuinely fascinating.

Her hands were wrapped around the invitation that had been waiting for her when she had come home, signed by her father himself. And for once, she would not choose the easy way out by simply not going, by dumping the responsibility on someone else. She would go and she would play as nice as she could, given the long list of annoyances that formed the guest list for the meeting.

Because it would be more than just a shared meal, it would be some kind of business deal going on behind the curtains and the curious part of her wanted to know what kind it would be because she was very much over the secrets half the world was keeping from her.

“Suppose you got the same invitation I did,” she said as the call was answered. “Just wanted to let you know that against considerably better knowledge, I’m going.”

 _‘I give you three minutes before you want to break someone’s nose, Miss Lund,’_ the medical examiner of her team replied with a scoff, _‘but you’re right; I’m invited as well.’_

“Knew it,” she stated smugly as she leaned against the headboard of her bed. “Roxanne’s going to stay away, isn’t she?”

Not that it took a genius to figure this one out. Although Roxanne Dreyar was gifted with considerably better social skills than her husband, she tended to avoid any kind of social function when it was connected to a cause she did not personally support – and Ur had her doubts that the blonde would be in favour of any of this.

 _‘The only way anyone would get her to sit down at this table would be by abducting her,’_ the man said calmly but there was a trace of amusement laced through his voice. _‘It’s gonna be you and me and a bunch of people we hate.’_

“I guessed that you’d say something like this,” she replied as she looked around in her room, a rare smile crossing her face as she closed her eyes for a moment. “It’ll be just like in the good old days … hell, it might even be fun to gossip about the other guests when we get the chance.”

 _‘So you’re actually in favour of your father doing this sort of thing?’_ he asked and she could hear the frown on his face although he was on the other side of the city.

“Of course not, Ivan,” she said as she rolled her eyes, “but I try to be nice nonetheless.”

Not that this was her strength. She was a good liar – or had been, at least – but she had gotten rusty at it because there were too many people in her life she did not want to lie to. She had never been able to lie to Ivan – because he had known whenever she was lying although he had rarely commented on it – and she was not the kind to lie to a child. And she sure as hell knew better than to try lying to Silver because he struck her as someone who would not appreciate being played at all.

 _‘Don’t try to play nice, just be less of a bitch as you sometimes can be,’_ he said and she rolled her eyes because she was not doing it on purpose. She just happened to have a lot of strong opinions and a lack of fear when it came to sharing them with everyone who listened.

“I’ll give my best but you better back me up,” she said as she pushed herself off the bed and rolled her shoulders before she traded her jacket for a more comfortable sweater. “You exactly how little patience I have for them.”

She had never enjoyed hanging around with the people who had just as much money as her family because they were usually as boring as humanly possible because they were empty safe for their families’ money and the jewelleries and the fasts cars tons of money could buy without much of a problem. When she had been nine and had just gotten her grandparents to make sure that she would no longer have to attend the boarding school, she had thought that she had seen the last of all those people who were so bored by their lives that social events were all they lived for. Sometimes, she even pitied them. But the truth was that no matter how far away she went, she could never escape them completely.

 _‘You never were patient with anyone in the first place,’_ Ivan reminded her and she sighed before she ended the call and gave the mirror a thin smile before she got out of her uniform pants and into the pair she used to wear for the yoga classes she had cancelled a long time ago – because even yoga had not been able to fix her ‘attitude problem’.

Straightening up, she strolled back into the living room and sat down on the couch while Lyon bounced up and down on the couch. It was Friday evening and she realised that although there was a stack of invitations to fancy events – some people still had not gotten the message that she was not interested – waiting in the kitchen, she did not feel like she was supposed to be anywhere else. It had taken years for her to come to the point where she was at peace with herself and could afford to sit down to watch a movie without feeling like the time could be invested on something else like working out or cleaning guns.

“How was work?” Lyon asked as he reached into the bowl filled with popcorn, his blue eyes looking at her with an expression even she could not figure out so easily.

“I … got punched,” she said as she leaned over him to get a handful of the sweets as well. She had disapproved when Jacob had bought her the popcorn machine for her new apartment but Lyon loved it and she had to admit that the popcorn she got to eat now was better.

“Someone punched you?” the boy asked as he reached out, sugary fingers cupping her face. “Did it hurt a lot? ‘cause when that guy hit me, it really hurt.”

She was not sure why she had felt like she was supposed to tell him about the injuries she suffered while she was out at work. Maybe it was because she was under the impression that Lyon could handle this sort of information. And it was important for him to remember that she was not invincible, that a single bullet could rip her out of his life – just like it had happened with his father as well, no matter how painful this memory was.

She shook her head as she laced her fingers through his, a smile crossing her face. “He was bad at it,” she said as she rubbed the sugar off her skin, remembering how she done the same hours before with the fake blood Ivan had smeared onto her face to make it look more realistic in case that Gildarts and Silver would not get there quite as fast. “And I got training,” she added as an afterthought before she mentioned towards the television again where the movie was about to start.

“…training didn’t save dad,” Lyon said quietly as he kept staring at her. “Be careful, yes?”

“I always am,” she said as she briefly wondered if maybe, she should file in a request to be transferred back to consulting where she should be as safe as humanly possible.

“You’re a better liar than dad,” he said softly and a part of her heart was torn apart at the sound of these words because they were true. She had always been better at tricking people because she was the combination of eleven different fighting moves whereas Chres had been a straight punch to the face – much like the one she had taken to stall for more time.

“The trick is to actually believe what you’re saying,” she said as she ruffled his hair gently. “I do my very best to stay safe but … I have a duty to my team, to my country.”

“He used to say the same,” the child said and she closed her eyes. “But … let’s talk about something else real quick and then watch the movie, yes?”

“Hit me with your best shot, kiddo,” she said as she wondered what elephant would be put into the room next after they had already addressed Chres briefly.

“Dad used to say something about you,” the boy said and if her throat had not felt like it had been sewn together before, it would have started to feel like it now because she knew Chres and she knew about his ridiculously good opinion about her, an opinion that was mostly based on the way she had been understanding when he had broken up with her.

“What did he say?” she asked, trying to get her voice to sound remotely normal.

“That sometimes, you’re so busy saving everyone that you forget that it’s okay for you to look after yourself first and send everyone else to hell,” he said in his best impression of his father’s voice which added to the surge of guilt she was feeling. “Maybe he meant you should date.”

“Knowing him, this really wouldn’t surprise me,” she said with a scoff before she reached for the popcorn again. “Your father and I … we were friends for a very long time. And we always looked out for each other,” she explained as she switched off the volume of the TV. “We didn’t always manage to keep each other safe … but we kept trying.” 

* * *

**we'll take this way too far (it'll leave you breathless)**

* * *

 

For Silver, the concepts of ‘restaurant’ and ‘museum’ usually did not connect at all because in a restaurant, people ate while in a museum, people went to enjoy some kind of cultural event. But as usual, the rich upper class of Era (and Fiore in general) had their ways and when they wanted to share a meal in the National Art Gallery, they did just that – although it was a pretty stupid idea in Silver’s opinion.

But no one had asked him for his opinion. He had actually not been asked at all – not even when it had been spontaneously decided that he would join in on the party after both his partner and their medical examiner had already left the office after the early shift to be bored to death by boring people who really did not care about anything aside from themselves and their money.

The people sitting around the table all shared the same expression of cultivated boredom and if Silver had not known better, he would have guessed that they were all dolls and not real people. Dreyar was sitting next to his father and he appeared to have fallen partly asleep a while ago which was just another reminder for Silver that the medical examiner was too intelligent to maintain a conversation with people who could simply not follow him. Ur was sitting on the opposite side of the table, silently eating her food and politely ignoring everyone who was trying to get a statement from her.

He was pretty sure that she picked up on his presence the moment he appeared in the room although she could hardly see him – unless she got eyes on the back of her head – and so he smirked widely as he pulled back the empty chair next to her and nodded at the assembled people in a greeting manner.

“Lieutenant Colonel Fullbuster,” Ivan’s father greeted and Silver understood why the medical examiner preferred to avoid his father as far as it was possible for him. “How nice of you to join us here,” the balding man continued as he reached for his glass. “Ended up working with my son and the ice princess over here, correct? That gotta be rough for you.”

“Father, stop,” Ivan said awkwardly as he looked up from his plate. “You _embarrass_ us all.”

“Also, General, it’s kinda rude to call Mr Lund’s daughter an ice princess,” one of the snobby guys from the other side of the table threw in and it did not take a genius to figure out that people like him where the reason why Dreyar had texted Silver that it might become necessary to somehow restrain Ur because she was a ticking time bomb during this meeting.

“Oh, I actually don’t mind it,” Ur replied and her voice was not quite as soft as it had been supposed to be before she turned her head to look at Silver. “It’s good to see you here.”

“Couldn’t have you two skipping out on work while I was actually there, playing my part,” he replied with a shrug as he inclined his head into the direction of her father as if to ask what on earth was happening around them in the first place because he really did not know.

“Father decided to live an ambition he had for a very long time,” she said as she pushed a plate filled with food into his general direction. “He’s running for the parliament.”

A part of him wanted to ask if Octavian Lund even had some kind of political agenda but then, he remembered what Ur had once said about her father: that he had opinions on pretty much everything and that he, in her opinion, was probably cut out to be a politician although he lacked diplomatic skill and usually did not explain his actions.

“That’s pretty surprising, isn’t it?” he asked as he picked up a fork and started to eat, trying to figure out what – aside from the men who kept staring at his colleague in an inappropriate manner – was so important that he had to be here. Well, no matter what the reason was, he was getting decent food.

“Not really,” she said darkly as she reached for the glass on her left side, her gaze fixated on the way the clear liquid swirled as she let the glass circle in her hand. “He always dreamed of achieving something great, something truly big … so this is his big chance.”

“And so he went and invited the top dogs of society for lunch?” he asked as he cut the steak with precise moves. “Sounds like he’s already starting his campaign or something.”

“Probably, yeah,” she said as she shifted her gaze to look at her father, a sigh leaving her lips. “Officially, he’s meeting some old friends and acquaintances of the family.”

“And he decided you had to be here as well so it looks like the family stands united behind him,” Silver added as he briefly mused if this was why her father had started to play nice in the first place. And if this was indeed the truth, Octavian Lund would be one of the most manipulative people Silver had ever met in his life.

“I don’t believe that anyone will buy grandma being in complete favour of this,” Ur said with a scoff as she averted her gaze when she was addressed by the man who was sitting next to her father – a man around their age dressed in a crisp black suit, wearing a crimson tie. “Yes, Mr Wilson?” she asked calmly, her voice dripping with a mixture of honey and venom.

“It has surprised me to hear that you still work for the criminal investigation department here in Era,” the man said as he lifted his glass and took a sip of his champagne, his voice purposefully soft and calm. “I had expected for you to pursue a career in architecture to be honest.”

Ur did not lose her well-trained smile as she lifted an eyebrow, her left hand dropping off the table to pinch her leg to keep herself from making a comment she would regret later on. “There are many ways of building,” she said after a moment in which her eyes narrowed from the sharp pain in her leg, “and I quite enjoy the one I use at the moment.”

Another man chuckled as he directed the attention at the sole woman who happened to be young and single at the entire table. “Well said, Miss Lund,” he said and Silver knew exactly what was coming next because it was truly the oldest trick in the book to wait for a rival to mess up before swooping in with a better line.

“You think so, Hamilton, _really_?” Dreyar asked sarcastically with a frown as he looked up – once again – from the food in front of him.

“But of course, Dreyar,” the man called Hamilton replied with a wide smile that nearly seemed to be genuine. “I was just about to tell Miss Lund about the Grand Opening of the new art gallery in downtown … I’m certain that she’d enjoy it very much.”

“I got my invitation last week,” Ur said with a sigh, “but I’m not sure if I can make it.”

“It’s on the same night as the ice hockey game you wanted to go to, right?” Dreyar asked with his brand of a sly smirk while he pushed the larger plate with potatoes over into Silver’s direction for no reason whatsoever. “Who’s playing again?”

“The Edelweiß Racoons,” she replied as she turned her head to look at Silver. “Jake got me four cards … would Gray and you care to go with me and Lyon?” she inquired.

He did not care about her reasons to ask him, not at all. She was old enough to know what she was doing and most of the time, he felt like she was playing a game on so many layers that he would feel dizzy if he would have to look at them all at the same time. Nonetheless, it all did not influence his decision at all. He had not been to an ice hockey match in years – he had been a bit too busy and it had been difficult to consider that if he had not joined the army, it could have been him on the ice – and so it would be plain stupid of him to turn down the offer that was extremely generous of her.

“Is Lyon even that much into ice hockey?” he asked as he nodded ever so slightly to inform her of his decision, a decision that made her grin.

“Well, Jake and he watch ice hockey all the time when I work late,” she said with a shrug as she reached for the can with green tea to pour herself a cup. “So I suppose so.”

“Talking of Jake,” one of the other women, a rather pretty blonde, started as she smirked at Ur with a sly expression on her face, “how is he doing? Haven’t seen him around lately.”

The implication could not have been more obvious if she had written a poster to inform the world that she was interested – at least physically – in Ur’s cousin which was interesting because Silver could spot her wedding ring from afar without much of a trouble as it was glittering with diamonds and other gems.

“Tamara Clayton, rich divorcée,” Ur muttered – only for Silver to hear – as she went back to smiling winningly. “You see, _Tamara dear_ , Jake has been awfully busy,” she lied without even batting an eyelash. “He still works for our grandparents and, you know, they keep him occupied.”

“That’s such a shame,” the blonde said as she sighed deeply, toying with the huge necklace she was wearing as her painted lips formed a pout. “I always thought he and I would make a pretty great couple … wouldn’t you agree, Ur sweetheart?”

Now, Silver was hardly an expert when it came to the female agent but his observations had shown him that she was usually not the kind of woman to tolerate being called _sweetheart_ by anyone – much less by some rich divorcée who was setting her sights on Ur’s well-loved cousin.

“I actually think,” Ivan interrupted as he nodded ever so slightly at Ur, “that we all should … go look at the, uh, art. It’s kind of the advantage of eating in a museum, isn’t it?”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Ur’s father agreed as he rose from his chair, his posture briefly losing its tension as he relaxed a bit too much. “I heard they bought quite a few new paintings.”

Ur rose quietly and the hand that had previously pinched her leg was suddenly on Silver’s arm, dragging him off to one of countless paintings that were hanging in a side hallway. “One more question about Jacob and I’ll break Clayton’s face,” she hissed under her breath as she shook her head. “Really, I would love to know why Ivan didn’t talk me out of this.”

“Not that I’m gonna complain or something but aren’t you causing rumours by dragging me off like that?” he asked as he looked over his shoulder, trying to figure out the room. This was an instinct the life as an agent had woken in him – he always needed to know where all the exit points from a place were.

“Rumours don’t get started about me,” she said as she shrugged, leaning over to read the plate next to the painting as she raised an eyebrow. “I’m a lost cause anyway … being an agent isn’t quite as honourable in their eyes as being a _brave soldier_ ,” she added as she rolled her eyes and discreetly checked the room around them for potential threats. “I actually can’t think of anything that would actually ruin my image.”

“Being caught making out in a broom’s closet?” he suggested as he smirked down at her.

“That makes for a scandal when you’re sixteen, not so much when you’re nearly thirty,” she said as she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the empty part of the wall.

“Talking about your own experiences?” he asked as he tried to figure out what she had looked like when she had been sixteen and whether or not she had been one of the rich girls who liked to party before he remembered that she had been at university at the time.

“Not quite,” she said as she lifted her hands up. “I was the one catching Hamilton – his first name’s Maximilian, by the way – and Cecilie in the brooms closet. I was scarred for life.”

Silver let out a low whistle. “So the guy first makes out for your cousin and now hits on you?” he inquired with a grin. “Looks like his taste improved vastly.”

She rolled her eyes as she kept scanning the room. “A part of me thinks that he’s still chasing after her,” she shrugged as she pushed herself away from the wall and strolled down another hallway, stopping once in a while to look at paintings. “They’d absolutely deserve each other, you know?” she added as an afterthought.

“While this is certainly true … why would anyone be chasing after your cousin?” he asked as he followed her into a room dedicated to modern art. He had met Cecelie Lund and in his opinion, she was hardly the kind of woman anyone would chase after for years.

“Hamilton’s new money,” she said with a little snort as she stopped and tilted her head as her face scrunched up. “Cecelie has social prestige he lacks … and well, she’s kinda pretty.”

“You serious about that?” he asked with a frown as he once more decided that he was better off not trying to understand how women worked inside their heads.

“I’m confident enough about my own looks to be able to state when another woman is pretty,” she said with a scoff as she brushed back a strand of her hair, “but we need to vanish.”

“What do you mean?” he asked but she did not reply but rather mentioned towards the door from where a loud argument could be heard. “Suppose we don’t want to get caught in that?”

“It would be extremely awkward,” she said with a huff as she pushed a panel of the wall and took a step back as it swung back and revealed a hidden closet. “Perks of being an ex-architect,” she said as she stepped into the closet.

“You constructed this?” he asked as he looked around once again, trying to figure out if he had been supposed to have this one figured out on his own beforehand

“Yeah,” she said as she dragged him into the darkness and closed the panel again. “One of two buildings here in Era I came up with … the designs won competitions.”

“You constructed Opalescent as well, I’ve heard,” he said as he tried to move around in the darkness without stepping onto her foot. “That probably made being in that cellar for nearly a weak pretty frustrating, right? Having build the own prison…”

“You’re standing on my foot,” she said as she twisted herself around, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she pulled her foot out from beneath his. “I may have planned this closet for another purpose than hiding from other people, to be honest.”

He tried to shift himself around in the darkness but all he managed to do was to hit his head. “The next time you construct things like that, could you maybe make them bigger?” he muttered.

“The next time I’ll consider the possibility of having to hide inside my own construct with someone as tall as you, no worries,” she said as she let go of his shoulders. “Um, this is kinda awkward but … can I kinda hug you? Or I’ll probably lose balance and give us both away.”

“No worries, feel free to treat me like your personal teddy bear, Bambi,” he said as he rolled his eyes at her because he would have guessed that by now, she had figured out that he would not mind it at all if she was to hug him because he still had that silly little crush on her – a crush that was maybe not quite as silly and little as he would like it to be.

“Good,” she said as she leaned closer, invading his personal space by wrapping her arms around his shoulders and neck while he slung his arms around her waist. If someone was to open the secret door right now, they would most certainly get the wrong idea – not that Silver would mind it if their wrong idea would be something that was actually happening. It was _ridiculously_ dark inside the storage closet, he decided because he could not see a single thing. It was like all the darkness in the world had been collected in this space and this was the only rational explanation as he could not even see Ur. If she was not touching him and if the scent of her perfume was not that strong for some reason, he might just as well have been completely alone.

“Kinda exciting, isn’t it?” he asked quietly as the muffled voices from the outside grew louder.

“That would explain your heart rate,” she replied calmly as she shifted her weight. “God, it’s so odd to hide in here with someone instead of being all alone?”

Looking back, he would never be able to tell what exactly had happened because he was not sure what was first: her thumb on his cheek or his hand in her hair. He could only say for sure that he kissed her first – something she would deny for years to come – and that she kissed him back which was good or it would have resulted in a highly awkward scene. If he was some sort of sappy poet, he would have come up with some flattering comparison between lips and velvet but he was no poet and so he did not waste his time on trying to be someone he was not and would never be and rather focused on something he could do: like kissing her.


End file.
